Puck
by Asso
Summary: Puck... who was that fellow?
1. Chapter 1

**Puck**

**By Asso**

* * *

**Rating:** PG-13

**Genres:** angst, challenge, drama, humour and a lot of romance.

**Keywords:** Puck... who was that fellow?

* * *

**Author's Notes**

_**This is the consequence of the challenge which, **__**on TriaxiaSilk, swooped down on my head because of Panyasan, **_

I think it's useful I report here what **Panyasan** said when she challenged me.

QUOTE:

_Remember that horrible episode "A Night in Sickbay" in season two in which Archer is acting like a teenager staring at T'Pol? [I wasn't a TnT when I watched that episode, but I vividly remember thinking "Sexual tension between Archer and T'Pol, what tension? That really came out of nowhere."]_

_Well, there is more to this episode then meets the eye. There is a nice scene in the gym where T'Pol puts Archer in his place, she is constantly saying in one other scene "that Commander Tucker needs his Dilithium for the engines" (the thing Enterprise needs to keep on moving), she brings Archer food (did Trip inspire her to bring it?) and most of all when Archer finally makes his excuses T'Pol and Trip exchange a look. They both seemed to roll their eyes and thinking "finally our plan worked and we forced the captain to make his excuses". It's a long look and you really get the feeling there was more going on behind the scenes between Trip and T'Pol. It really makes all the suggestions for "something" between Archer and T'Pol very hollow._

_It looks like our favorite duo had team up to make the sleep deprived and childlike acting captain acting as sort of captain._

_I like you, _**_Asso_**_, to write a fic with four POV: Archer, Trip, T'Pol and Phlox. No character bashing, I know it's very tempting, especially when it comes to Archer and I like you to add your great sense of humour. Trip and T'Pol team up, you explain why_

_**a**__. Archer is so sleep deprived he is acting like an idiot and_

_**b.**__ why Phlox got his crazy idea that they was something between Archer and T'Pol. Also you explain_

_**c.**__ why when Archer is uttering his crazy idea about sexual tension, T'Pol seems to agree and then gently says "No way we are going to have a relationship of any kind, except professionally". Did Trip gave her a couple of points how to deal with the situation?_

Okay, here is what ensued from **Panyasan's** request. I hope it can be satisfactory.

* * *

There are four further things I have to say:

**First.**

THIS IS NOT AN AU. As far as it can be felt in this way, it is not. And we are only at the beginning.

**Second**.

Remember_:_ no one can be harsher toward a Doctor than another Doctor. - '_twisted'_

**Third.**

Puck... what has it got to do with this story? Well, I said we are at the beginning.

**Fourth**.

Thank you, **Dinah,** once more. For your kindness, your agreeableness and your cleverness.

* * *

_**Chapter One**_

_I am that merry wanderer of the night._

**Puck**

A Midsummer Night's Dream

Act 2, Scene 1

* * *

Finally all has been done. It's over, thankfully.

My sickbay is again only for me and for my little menagerie. A menagerie, only that. A USEFUL menagerie, certainly not inclusive of any notion of pets.

Really, we Denobulans can't be in the wrong for having no pets, because if pets are able to reduce a man to act the way the Captain acted...

I sigh, sitting heavily on my chair.

Oh, sure. And me? How wisely I acted and thought, too. Really wisely.

Never again! I... I only hope the Captain won't ever blurt out anything to T'Pol about my... wise medical suggestions as to why he was so uptight and irrational and... and, above all, the foolish idea I took from my brain and that I sneakily put flashing in HIS brain that maybe it would be a good thing if he clearly showed his... problem to... to the object of his desire.

Indeed, because of that, because of his sexual attraction toward the Sub-Commander, there's no doubt, but... but, well! There are things which should best remain... undisclosed!

And then I was perfectly aware that... the object of the Sub-Commander's desire was... one other! I knew that, for the First Doctor's sake! Even if she obviously hasn't ever been open about this matter, the bickering between her and the Commander was very meaningful to my eyes - and not only to mine. There were a mess of other small and big signs, but... but who could have ever thought that things had proceeded to such a point?

I carefully brought my hand to my eye and fingered it cautiously.

No! Never again!

* * *

Finally all has been done. It's over, thankfully.

I can stay in my room alone with my dear Porthos, safe and in good health, thank goodness. But if I had to say that I was finally able to sleep quietly, I would be lying.

Damn Doctor! To hell with you and your damn subtle, _wise medical suggestions_!

Attracted to T'Pol? Me? SURELY, DAMN IT! But there are things which it's better if they remain undisclosed, to everyone, even to us.

Attracted to T'Pol. Me. Yeah, and now I know that for sure, and I know also that I don't have a minimal chance. I destroyed any possibility.

Thanks, my dear Doctor, for having astutely pushed me to face my hidden desires! Thank you, my skillful Doctor!

Ah sure! You are a real and great friend, my multi-graduated-I-know-it-all physician! Sure! And I have to be very grateful to you for having so shrewdly and so thinly and stubbornly forced me to try to reveal myself to T'Pol, obliquely, of course. And what was the great result of this? I had to listen as she so graciously made me understand that that way is barred for me in regard to her. With that damned Vulcan aplomb so typical of her, she also suggested to me that I was acting sagely by acknowledging that it is better that there is nothing between her and me! Damn eely woman! Damn meddler of a doctor!

Anyway, at least, I finished having to apologize! To those damned Aliens, to T'Pol and even to the doctor, for Pete's sake!

And I have my little companion with me.

Even if I would prefer to have... someone else with me.

But this is an unfeasible dream for me. I'm persuaded that that is attainable for only one man, but, in any case, it's a pipe dream for whichever male which doesn't be Vulcan. Surely no Human male can nurture such a dream.

* * *

Finally all has been done. It's over, thankfully.

Finally we can again resume our habits.

I look around with prudent caution. No one is in sight. All is quiet.

I discreetly push the doorbell, ringing the usual signal.

The door opens immediately and I smile. It's clear that she was as anxious as me for this moment.

I look at her in penumbra. How damn beautiful she is, for God's sake!

With her usual stern expression on her visage, she nods slightly, to invite me to come in and she stands aside a little to give me access, but not too much. No, not too much, so I can't help but rub against her and against all her... softness.

I turn around and look at her while she attentively closes the door. With her back toward it, she fixes her eyes on mine.

She watches me for some instants, and then... her robe slips down from her shoulders and falls on the floor, and...

Boys! Can you believe that I'm the man who is able to feel the warmth of her naked body against mine, the sweetness of her arms around my neck, the mild and passionate touch of her fragrant lips on my mouth?

* * *

Finally all has been done. It's over, thankfully.

Finally I can again... receive him.

The attention I had to pay to the Captain in regard to his stupid behaviour almost compelled me to lose my control.

And... for Surak's sake!... and his thoughts about me! Really, I have to thank my Vulcan training. I have been able to speak so politely to him and to repress my desire to swipe him with a sonorous slap in the face. Pretending to apologize, he was treacherously and underhandedly trying to bait me!

Me! His woman! The woman of such an idiotically stubborn and proud man! Friendship, sure, and respect - affection too - even if it has been very hard lately to keep that sort of proclivity toward him, considering his deplorable and childlike behaviour. But... how says my Trip? Me! Being the... the alien toy-girl of the great Captain! May Surak help me, I have a far better man in my hands!

Stubborn, that's undeniable. And proud, also, but in a fair way. And smart, and open-minded, and ardent, and sweet, and handsome, and...

In short, the man just for me.

And the Doctor... but how was he capable of acting the way he did? He is a clever and attentive man. How is it possible that he didn't realize that he was pushing the Captain down a dangerous road? That his will to aid the Captain would be a source of embarrassment for me and for the Captain, too. That he can't treat people like they were guinea-pigs. That he can't judge other races, in the matter of sexual behaviour, from his _peculia_r Denobulan perspective. That there are circumstances to which it's better for even a Doctor to close his eyes. D... damn meddler of a Doctor!

Oh, but I'm sure that this time he has learned! That's for sure. I can't help but smile to myself. Certainly. My Trip personally took care of this particular exigency, and I'm persuaded that the Doctor will be ATTENTIVE when going about his business from now on.

I know this kind of satisfaction is all but Vulcan, but I am unable to fight against it. And honestly, it's the cause of a great deal of contentment.

I sigh. That, too, is un-Vulcan-like, I know, but I can't help but do it. What is my Commander waiting for? When will he arrive?

A sound shakes me. The doorbell. THE SIGNAL! IT'S HIM!

I leap up from the floor where I was uselessly attempting to meditate so as to keep under control my anxiety to have, at last, my Trip again between my arms.

In a quick rush I reach the door and open it. I try to regain some trace of composure and show my usual stern face.

That's... that's very difficult, when I see his beautiful smile!

I nod slightly in an attempt to appear normal, calling upon him to come in with this gesture, and I stand aside to permit him to pass. But...I don't stand aside too much, because...

Oh! Well! It's... it's delicious... and... and exciting... to feel him rub against me!

Now he has turned around and is watching me with those fascinating blue eyes of his.

For crying out loud, what am I waiting for? To hell with my Vulcan composure!

And to hell also with my Vulcan distaste for these damned colloquialisms he has been capable of shoving deep down into my brain!

I let my robe slip down from my shoulders, displaying myself buck-naked to him. And right after, without letting him have the time to chase away from his face that marvellous expression of surprise and delight and admiration, I throw myself on him and tightly encircle his neck with my arms.

And I print out my mouth on his mouth.

I kiss him.

Closed eyes.

Sweetly and passionately.

Holding him tightly to me.

My dear Captain... THIS... is my man!

* * *

I stand up slowly and go toward the mirror.

I regard my image on its surface.

My eye looks very bad. The subcutaneous haemorrhage made the socket almost black and it appears swollen and oedematous. The eyelids are practically closed. And, in spite of all the medicaments I used, it hurts like hell.

But I deserved that. Oh sure, for the blood of the Great Healer! Damn my presumption! Indeed! Eh... but I am the wise and all-knowing doctor, whose steady confidence and knowledge allow him to always find the right road. Right? I know all. ALL! Sure! Except that Humans - and Vulcans - are NOT Denobulans, that their sexual behaviours are different from those of my race, that sex is for them something private and, above all, that sex can't go without a real bond for Humans and especially for Vulcans.

I know all. Except that it's better to think before I act.

But it's stronger than me. It's my duty to try to understand and to push people to face their demons, if that is useful for them, because I'm a doctor, of course. And it's my duty to care about the crew's health.

I carefully caress my bluish and aching eye.

But, maybe, I should take care of MY own health sometimes.

And once again, how could I have thought that the _affair_ which was rolling deep down between the Commander and the Sub-Commander had reached such a high level? To such an extent that he wanted to retaliate, to take his revenge on the man - ME! - who pushed the Captain to make more or less explicit sexual advances to the woman he - the Commander - holds as his own?

And it's certain that, as far as he can be presumptuous - and he isn't - and sure of his manly charm, he wouldn't ever have done what he did without a good reason, if he didn't feel himself in the right to do it. In other words, if T'Pol doesn't really belong to him. Vulcan sexual behaviour leads the lovers to be so possessive. And vengeful.

I continue to observe my eyes and to unravel the thread of my thoughts.

It's obvious that the Captain spilt the beans, as the Commander would say, in regard to what happened between me and him in the matter of my attempt to bring to light his hidden obsession about T'Pol, maybe in front of a glass of whiskey, in the name of their multi-year friendship. But surely the Commander didn't have to be glad of what I did, surely not. And... and I can't swear that T'Pol, even with all her secretiveness, didn't confess to her... yes, her man... something which perhaps not even I know, something which happened between her and the Captain. I can't take that for certain, but... well, there have been some signals from her that did speak volumes as to that. So, in the final analysis, that's equally obvious from what I know, and from what occurred subsequently. The Commander, unwilling to take vengeance on the Captain, owing to their multi-year friendship, and aware that the engine of the whole story had been me, decided to give me a lesson.

I don't think he was in the wrong, but frankly he could have chosen another way! A little more... gentle. And less... painful. And, in addition... damn sly fox of a man!... no one can think that it wasn't an accident!

But I'm not mistaken. No, this time I'm not mistaken.

That expression on his face, even in the middle of his worried apologies and of his hurrying in to help and, even in the midst of the shock that hit me and from behind the tears of pain which veiled my look, was much too clear.

And I scrutinize my eye even more, and I suspire in quandary, exactly like the Commander's expression. That hint of a smile which appeared on T'Pol's face didn't escape me.

* * *

"Hon?"

"Trip?"

God! I don't think I will ever be accustomed to the sound of my nickname on her lips. It is easier to call her "Hon" and "Darlin" and "Baby" and whatever other appellative, than not getting melted under the intimacy that it gives me listening to her while she murmurs, in love, my soubriquet. _T'hai'la, Ashayam, Ashal-veh._ All these are splendid words; they are the secret love words she calls me in her language. And I know that only a Vulcan female in love is willing to use these words and only with her chosen one, with the man she is enamored of. But the warmth she gives me when she calls me "_Trip_" is beyond even that. I understood from the beginning what such a fact meant because all people are aware that Vulcans are very formal, and they don't like to address anyone but with his proper name. Nevertheless, not too long after we met, I heard my nickname on her lips. She addressed me in this way because... because... Oh men!... because, if I knew that she was the woman for me just in the first day, just when she refused to shake my hand... well then, she, too, understood that, as she confessed to me afterwards.

Our love was _inevitable_. Inevitably fated to be and - I sigh, slightly - Inevitably fated to be hidden. But a few months, not more, after I saw her the first time, she called me _Trip_, and I... called her _Hon_. And I picked the most precious flower. I was... I am... the first and only man of her life! She loves me, and I love her infinitely more than how much any other man can love his woman. May this love of ours be secret, damnit! But this secret love is the most golden treasure which exists! How many moments of intimacy, of sweet and ardent love, we have shared. How many moments we will share yet. But... this name... on her lips... will always be the mild brand of her love for me, someway more intimate that our intimacy itself.

As now, while we lie together naked under the sheet on her bed, clinging to each other, my arm around her and her head on my chest, after we gave ourselves to one another.

I call her again, only for the pleasure to hear my T'Pol respond to me once more with my nickname.

"Hon?"

She stirs and snuggles up to me. I know she knows. Nothing can escape my smart love. She repeats sweetly and purposely, "Trip?"

I look at the ceiling, trying to find the right words.

She perceives my discomfort and raises her head, leaning on my chest with her forearms. She looks at me with inquiring eyes and quizzically calls again, "Trip?"

I lower my eyes to her face. God-almighty! Is there anything more lovely?

I smile, between repressed discomfort and inescapable amusement. Oh yeah, because definitely it has been... kind of funny. And after all, am I or am I not the unpredictable and impulsive man that I am? All the world knows that, and then... such things can happen, that's a matter of fact. And...I don't feel too remorseful, I have to say. Could the Vulcan influence of my T'Pol have anything to do with all that? Vulcans can be so possessive and vindictive in regard to their love affairs!

"What is the problem, Ashayam?"

"Hon, how will Phlox be? I mean, he will recover swiftly, won't he?"

"Trip, he is a Doctor, a good Doctor as far as I know." Am I mistaking, or does her voice seem to resound a little harshly? "It's plausible he will be able to cure himself, most likely better than he is sometimes able to treat other people."

Yes, indubitably, her voice is slightly harsh.

"Sure, Hon, but the punch was pretty hard. I... don't think I am too weak."

She places his head again on my chest and begins to gently caress the muscles of my arm with her fingertips, which inevitably makes me quiver with delicious pleasure. "No, you are not, Ashayam."

Well, I don't think I can be in the wrong, if I feel myself inflating with pride.

"So, Darlin', maybe..."

"Trip..." Damn, how the hell can I try to reason lucidly while she sweetens any word with a soft kiss on the skin of my chest? "It...*_kiss*_... was ... *_kiss*_...an accident. *k_iss*_... You... *_kiss*_... don't have... *_kiss*_... to rebuke yourself... *_kiss*_... in any way. *d_ouble kiss*_... It was... *_kiss,_ _kiss_, _kiss*_... a combination... *_kiss,_ _kiss_, _kiss_, _kiss*_... of unlucky circumstances."

This is her usual way. When I start to become a little too worried, she knows very well how to smooth over my annoyance.

I seize her face and hold it firmly. It's impossible for me to be able to think if she goes on with her manoeuvres.

"Hon, I..."

"Trip." She raises her head again and looks at me with the most innocent face. "You must think logically..." An amused glisten shines in her eyes. "... if you are able to do it. If we have to follow your course of thought, I, too, should feel at fault. If I hadn't stumbled, if I hadn't fallen against the wall where there was the button that controls the punch ball's fastening, if I hadn't unintentionally pressed that button, making the punch ball fall to the ground just when..."

"Just when I was throwing my punch."

"Yes, and..."

"And if Phlox wasn't exactly behind the punch ball just when it fell down..."

"... trying to understand why you seemed to be angry with him."

**"Yes, and if he wasn't just on the trajectory of my punch..."**

"... when the unlucky circumstances occurred, which gave a clear path for your punch toward his face... "

"I tried to stop, Darlin'. I swear. I tried with all my strength, but it was too late."

"I have no doubt, my Ashayam."

"It was really horrible to feel the tremendous impact of my punch on his face."

"I would say... on his eye."

"Oh dear! Yes! Fortunately, Denobulans have a tough hide!"

"Fortunately."

"Because, otherwise, I wouldn't have simply caused to him to have a black eye."

"Indeed."

"Poor Phlox!"

"Poor Phlox."

"A victim of such an unlucky combination of circumstances."

"Just so."

"Darlin'?"

"Trip?"

"For an innocent observer, this could have almost looked like it was ... planned."

"You mean?"

"Well! Everyone knows what kind of close-knit team you and I are."

"Actually, we work very well together."

"In all respects."

"Like we have done during these days, joining our forces to push the Captain to act a little more wisely."

"Well, I merely gave you some suggestions about how you should have behaved in regard to him, so as to handle his childlike conduct. I know how Humans can be stupid when they think other people are bullying them."

"Our Captain seems to be very seasoned in this sort of behaviour."

"Well, Hon. You must understand. He doesn't trust other species very much. You know, his father and Vulcans..."

"Not even you liked Vulcans, but you learned to be more open in regard to them and also to people of other species."

I can't help but smile with delight and also with amusement. "Well, my beautiful Alien Sub-Commander! But you have to remember that a very peculiar petite Vulcan female taught me, as you said ... to work very well together with her."

The way she is able to be naïve and contemporaneously collected will always amaze me, but this time the light green colour which suffuses her cheeks and her ear tips reveals perfectly that I hit the mark. My smile beams and I fondly caress her flushed cheek.

I speak softly. "On the other hand, Hon, we have been capable of being a close-knit team in a lot of other times."

She stares at me warmly. "And in lots of different circumstances, Ashayam."

"Yeah, T'Pol. And..." I smile again, a little mischievously. "...not rarely in... a combination of unlucky circumstances."

My T'Pol, seriously and placidly regains her position on my chest. I feel she needs a little bit of reassurance from me, and I know how and what I have to do.

I start to stroke gently the marvellous pointed tips of her ears. "Well, Hon, there have also been lots of... pleasant circumstances, and I'm persuaded that there will be many more of these _pleasant circumstances_."

She closes her eyes, basking in my touch and in my words, and replies to me softly and, I'm sure, perceptibly amused.

"Yes, we are a very close-knit team."

* * *

Time to sleep, black eye or not.

The Kreetassans and their planet are getting farther and farther away from us and, somehow, this is a relief. It's as if all the odd things which happened lately are drifting away from us along with them.

Certainly the behaviour of our Captain was very strange or rather, very weird. I can understand pride. I can understand everything, but that sort of foolish conduct...

On the other hand, not even Commander Tucker and, even more, Sub-Commander T'Pol sounded totally themselves, if what I suspect about my... accident is true.

I don't know if that world and its inhabitants have anything to do with all these oddities, but certainly the idea that something... _deviating..._ was present on that planet could make sense.

I sigh, observing my eye one last time.

To tell really the truth, I would indeed like to think that something external, independent of me, was able to explain _**my**_ own behaviour, but any regret is futile. I did what I did and now, rightly or wrongly, I am suffering the consequences of my idiotic actions.

Well! Or maybe my suspicions are only the consequences of something really strange which is connected with that damn planet. Maybe. Oh, for my sake! This would be very nice! How I would like to explain in this way the goofiness of my deportment.

A doctor should never insist on something which has no value and which has no aim, except to prove his own ability. And even supposing that I wasn't deceiving myself about the Captain's thoughts in regard to T'Pol... _**why**_ did I behave like I did? For the Captain's health? To push him to face himself? Again... why? To compel him to behave more as a true Captain should do than as an irresponsible child? Or to pander to him and... and to my ego as a doctor? I don't understand myself. Perhaps it would be better if I ceased to read useless and ponderous medical treatises about alien psychology, attempting to put them into my daily practice. Probably I would be a better teacher that those who wrote such pompous and ignorant works.

Oh, enough now. Go to bed, skillful and clever doctor.

I move toward my personal medicine cabinet. I take a pain-killing hypospray and inject it to me.

This is very strong and will surely be of help.

Now I hope I will be able to sleep.

Mh... maybe there might be another thing which could help me sleep.

Apropos of pompous and ignorant works... I look at my workstation, at the computer.

Mh, yes, I think this could give me relief, in some degree.

I reach my workstation and sit down in front of my computer.

"Computer, personal message. From Doctor Phlox to Professor Sotutto, Medicine Academy, Central City, Denobula.

Start message.

_Distinguished Professor Sotutto, in regard to that treatise you wrote, pertaining to the right behavioural pattern to follow in professional conduct toward alien cultures, specifically in the matter of psychotherapy and the relation between repressed sexual desires and behavioural deviance... do you remember? That treatise where you asserted that the doctor's duty is, always, to try to bring to light these repressed impulses in order to modify the wrong behaviours. You know, that treatise where you show how one has to act so as to reach these outcomes, irrespective of the circumstances, and where you outline the way one has to act with many races, with Humans and Vulcans in particular. You corroborated your assertions with such a quantity of documentary material. You did a really great job. I was sure that, using your teachings, I would be capable of going down the best road._

_You, Distinguished Professor, sent me the file containing your exquisite and erudite treatise when my mission on Enterprise began, asserting that it would be extremely useful to me if ever I found myself in the situation of an alien Doctor on a vessel riddled with Humans whose sexual impulses - these are your words - are so important in regard to their actions. And even more so with a Vulcan female - F-e-m-a-l-e, you underlined that - who is anything but bad-looking, according to Human standards. Given your position as the most important and the most highly regarded of Academicians, I thought that your advice in this unique and unpredictable situation would be very helpful to me."_

I take a deep breath. I need to collect my thoughts.

"Computer, pause."

The most important and the most highly regarded of Academicians... Exactly that. Do I have to continue? Really do I have to...?"

Almost inadvertently my hand goes to my hurting eye.

If I have to continue? Of course, I have to do it! OF COURSE, Damn _smart aleck_ of an important and highly regarded Academician!

"Computer! Start again.

_"Distinguished Professor, I had the opportunity, most recently, to put in practice your teachings about the peculiar matter your treatise deals with, and so I was able to form an opinion. I thought It would be advantageous and beneficial for me to acquaint you with my personal and attentively pondered judgement in regard to your treatise, because you need to be aware of its real value and of its possible limits, considering that many other doctors might use it in circumstances perhaps similar to those I've had to face._

_Extremely Distinguished Professor, it's my unquestionable and irrefutable opinion that, if your treatise was printed on paper like it was in the past, and if the paper was sufficiently fine, and if better and more sophisticated devices weren't already in use in the lavatories, the most proper use for your work wouldn't have been the reading._

_Please, may you receive my most dutiful greetings._

_Your devoted admirer, Doctor Phlox_

Computer, end message_."_

Ahhhhh... Done!

I look at the blank screen in satisfaction.

Done.

Now, black eye or not, I'm persuaded that I can sleep.

Good night, Professor Sotutto.

* * *

**End of Chapter One**

**TBC**

_I said we are at the beginning - 'badgrin'_


	2. Chapter 2

**Puck**

**By Asso**

**

* * *

**

Rating: PG-13

**Genres:** angst, challenge, drama, humour

**Keywords: **Puck, Puck, Puck...

* * *

**The challenge goes on!**

**And, my friends, remember what I said in the first part: **

**First. **THIS IS NOT AN AU. As far as it can be felt in this way, it is not. But you have to await to understand what I mean.

**Second. **_Puck_... what has it got to do with this story? Patience, my friends, patience.

**And obviously and once more... **Thank you, **Dinah,** for your kindness, your agreeableness and your cleverness.

_

* * *

_

Lord, what fools these mortals be!

Puck in

A Midsummer Night's Dream

Act 3, scene 2

* * *

Never could I have suspected that I may stay so, in his arms, loved and in love. Never. And still, it is so.

Fortunately, it's so.

Sure, because even though I felt his puissant attraction from the beginning, I felt afraid.

How was it possible that I desired so mightily to be his? That his scent was so exhilarating, was claiming me so powerfully to belong to him? That such a logical woman like I am, a Vulcan, cold and rational, was dying to give... her prettiest flower, as he would say, to him, to a Human man?

That such a frightening and... and wonderful destiny would await me?

Just me, the most... the luckiest Vulcan in the Universe.

Fortunately. Fortunately, yes.

Fortunately, or maybe and more simply, rationally and logically, I understood very swiftly that logic wasn't ignoring or, worse, combating my desire, my attraction. My feelings.

(*_Cast out your fear... _*)

"Cast out your fear," said the founding father of our civilization, the one to whom we Vulcans owe our salvation. That's what I did, and no one can understand the rightness of Surak's precept more than me.

I snuggle up to my Trip even more, closed eyes, savouring blissfully the warmth of his body against mine, the strength of his arms around me, the...

_I sigh softly and joyously, at peace with myself ._

... the unspeakable sweetness of his touch, of his hands, so strong and callous and still so gentle, of his fingertips, while stroking my ear tips so lightly...

... the prolonged shivers of pleasure which he makes run across my spine with his loving and exciting caresses.

Cast out your fear...

The fear that logic is not compatible with love, that Vulcans cannot be allowed to be free. Control of emotions doesn't mean that they must be ignored. It is impossible... and unfair... not to savour them...

There are no boundaries for an Ashaya which is pure.

I seize my Ashayam's hand. I hold it firmly and press it against my cheek.

Why was I afraid to take this hand when he offered it to me the first day?

Because of the fear for the unknown? Of the scary depth of what I espied inside my katra?

Because... because of the fear that the rigour of my people would ostracize me from my own race?

Or more simply, because of fear. Mere fear. Incomprehensible fear. Crippling fear. A feeling, an emotion, which Vulcans don't have.

Because they lie! To the Universe and to themselves.

Fear is what compelled us to come out from the mud, to reach the stars, and we lie when we say that we don't experience it.

Simply... as Surak said... we must cast out the fear from our hearts, so as to make room for what the fear what fear would deny to us.

Like Ashaya, love.

Like the love I feel for my Trip.

I open my eyes and look at him. He is watching me, tenderly, smiling sweetly at me.

Tenderly... sweetly...

What a world of warm sensations he disclosed to me!

Since... since that day, not long after we met, when he... **shamelessly**... called me... _Hon_.

Honey.

And his eyes were strange; they were sparkling... and full of fear. Fear, yes. He, too, was feeling fear, because he had done one thing I hadn't dared to do; he had found the courage to peer into the depths of his heart and to bring to the light what he was feeling for me. With only that word, in his Human and in his typical way, he wanted to reveal to me what he had found inside himself.

And, with fear, he was asking me to reciprocate.

And I did cast out my fear. I called him _Trip_.

And I gave to him - I smile to myself, remembering the way my Trip voiced his thoughts - the most precious treasure I had. Precious, because it was for him.

And we became the one of the other.

I go on staring at him and softly caress his face. Still smiling, he lovingly strokes my face in return, as he continues to watch me.

I don't smile. I did it with my T'hai'la from time to time, but it's difficult for me to do it. I am Vulcan. I can't be what I am not. But I know that my Trip knows that I am smiling with my katra and my heart. Of delight and of love.

A love - I close my eyes again, with a hint of sadness - a love hidden, so as not to be... forbidden.

Just so, forbidden, because both of us, he and I, were perfectly aware that neither his nor my countrymen were ready and willing to accept our relationship, our... romance. Let alone the violation of Starfleet rules. Even though there are too many things which are still incomprehensible between our two races, these differences are the salt of our love. They are the daily challenges which push us toward each other more and more, day after day. They compel us to open our minds, drawing us together, growing together. Once, I was incapable of believing that such a hard challenge could be won, but we, together, win it, day by day, because..._I cling to my T'hai'la_...because our Ashaya is greater than any obstacle.

I don't dare to think of what would have happened to me if I had denied what I feel for my T'hai'la. If Logic - the one truth - hadn't guided my steps, if I had succumbed to my fear, what would my life have been? A lifelong inner struggle, without aim and without rest, torn between regret for what I had lost and the despair I felt because I was unable to have him in my life anymore. I don't know what I might have been capable of doing. Would I have ended up searching for some dangerous solutions? It's strange this thought which hits me, but probably it isn't too far from what could have occurred to me if I hadn't chosen sagely. Which solutions? Dope, for example? Dope, in which I would have been able to find the annihilation of my problems and myself. Or which, maybe, would have allowed me to finally be open with my Ashal-veh. To take from him and to give him what I desired with my whole heart.

I open wide my eyes, bewildered and dumbfounded. But what kinds of thoughts are crossing my mind? From what foreign territory, from what unknown land, from what diverse dimension do they come? I nuzzle the neck of my beloved, squinting with quiet delight, purring happily in his protective embrace. **HE is my drug! My night-after-day-after-night-after-day, diurnal and nocturnal, indispensable elixir of happiness. **How can I think that my life could be different? That there could be a space and a time where I could be trapped in a dreary solitude? Without him? Without belonging to him? Body and katra?

I wrap up myself joyously in his arms, even more strongly. This is my life. And no one, even unwittingly, can think to change it. No one can dare to do something able to perturb my life, mine and my Trip's. Before they act, people should realize that their schemes could have unwelcome effects. The Doctor was perfectly aware of the Captain's propensity toward me, and he DELIBERATELY pushed him to try to test me in regard to the possibility that I might be willing to reciprocate his feelings. What The Captain revealed to my Trip doesn't leave any doubts.

The Doctor wanted to test his own personal skillfulness by means of the Captain's awkwardness.

The Doctor knew that Vulcans don't like anyone meddling in their private business.

The Doctor knew PERFECTLY what he wanted to achieve.

And if the Doctor is really the clever beholder that he claims to be, I'm sure he wasn't unaware that there was the possibility that I wasn't free.

He acted in a way that was disrespectful of the other persons involved. Irrespective of the rightness of his opinion about the Captain's hidden compulsions, he didn't bother to tell me anything in regard to his underhand manoeuvres, despite the fact that, after all, I am an adult woman, capable of defending myself. And while there isn't anything bad about a man who wants to open himself with a woman to whom he is attracted, that doesn't mean that our smart Doctor didn't vex me. Me and my Trip.

And about that, about my relationship with my T'hai'la, whether this relationship is hidden or not, I am incapable of being placid, of thinking and acting with all the logic I normally use.

This thought strikes me unexpectedly. It's true, it... it hasn't been logical what my Trip and I...

Could it be... could it be factual what people of my race say under their breath, about Vulcan sexual behaviour? They murmur... they murmur that a Bond, a body and mind link, can develop between two people who love each other... deeply, and that no one must dare to put their fingers into this Bond, voluntarily or involuntarily. Logic is unable to guide the... lovers who share this Bond, because the logical Vulcans don't know any logic in their love.

My T'hai'la and I love each other passionately and profoundly. I don't think another woman and another man might share a love so intense. Could we... could we share a Bond? Even if my Trip is not Vulcan? And could this explain the... the disproportion of our reaction toward the Doctor? Because that's true... our reaction hasn't been proportionate and... and logical.

Why? Because there's something between us, a...a Bond, which doesn't grant derogations? Which works to keep away any interference, totally heedless of any logic and any civil policy? And to such an extent that I haven't even minimal remorse? And... and it is possible that something that my T'hai'la and I didn't really plan, functioned so nicely, because we are able to act and to think as **a very close-knit team**? In reality? As a unique person?

I wiggle, ill-at-ease in the arms of my beloved and he perceives my discomfort. He is capable of sensing my inner troubles... always. I thought it was his sensibility, but... what if there was also something else? The Bond?

The hands of my T'hai'la smooth my skin to try to reduce my uneasiness. His lips cover my whole face with soft kisses.

I calm down. Always, his caresses and his kisses manage to quiet me, more, much more, than any meditation.

Probably I need meditation, but... I prefer something else. The wait was too long and I haven't been _sated_ yet.

I stretch voluptuously in my Ashayam's arms and reach for his mouth with mine, and brushing it lightly against his, I talk softly upon his lips.

"I would like to experience again some of those pleasant circumstances where we are able to function as a very close-knit team."

His soft laugh fills the air and my heart, then his hands and his mouth and his body become greedy for me, and I plummet headlong into the all-consuming pleasure to be his.

One last thought flashes in my mind, before I lose myself in his love.

(*_I won't be able to meditate this night. Sleep will grab me earlier, and so I will dream._

_I will dream of my Trip._ *)

* * *

Oh well! In one way or another, I must try to sleep.

The last events are behind me. All has been done, and it's useless to cry over spilt milk. Bad figures or not, I am still the Captain.

Yeah, sure. The great Captain.

I get up, unable to rest.

I reach the space window and watch through it. In the dark which surrounds us, there are only the continuous lustrous stripes of the stars, which stream by rapidly all around, in our warp velocity.

Our warp velocity.

Just so, the warp velocity due to the engines my father designed. And which Trip oversees, ensuring they can function.

Trip. My friend. The Chief Engineer. The one who everyone esteems and respects. And appreciates.

Even T'Pol.

Yeah. They argue and bicker and squabble and have tiffs.

Continuously.

And still, somehow, they give aid to each other.

Always.

Apparently they are constantly avoiding each other and still, ultimately, they... they seem to look for each other.

Always.

If I didn't know that T'Pol is a Vulcan and... and that she is T'Pol, and If I didn't know that Trip is Trip, I might be led up to believe... to believe...

Namely...

I mean...

Well! They... they could seem to behave like two... like two...

But... what the hell? What sort of thoughts...?

I turn around and return to my bed.

I tumble heavily on it. The silence encircles me. The only sound is the soft humming of the engines, which work safely... under the sure and steady hand of their lord.

Trip.

I look at the ceiling. Porthos has placed his muzzle on my thigh, and I absently start to caress his head, behind his ear.

Absently. Because my brain is straying into weird thoughts.

Trip.

T'Pol.

Trip... T'Pol...

"Commander Tucker needs his Dilithium for the engines". If I remember well, these were T'Pol's words.

"_Commander Tucker needs his Dilithium for the engines."_

Why didn't she say "Engines need the Dilithium"? Or "The **_ship_** needs Dilithium". Or "**_WE_** need Dilithium." Why... "Commander Tucker?"

Weird thoughts.

Weird.

That look. I noticed it, even in the middle of my toilsome apologies to those damned Aliens.

They... Trip and T'Pol... exchanged that look. It was long... it was... conniving... it was...

_It was..._

Damn... damn weird thoughts! But where the hell do they come? From... from...

There must have been something on that blasted planet! Sure. That's why I was so unreasonable. My inability to sleep, my troubles, my... my stupid dreams about T'Pol, my... oblique approaches to her... All must have a reason, for Pete's sake! NEVER, would I have behaved the way I did, if there hadn't been some sort of... of influence, of...

Also the Doctor... yes, also the Doctor...

Ohhh, to hell with him! And to hell with those exasperating Kreetassans, and their twat pretensions! And to hell with T'Pol, too! And with Trip! And with... and with me!

**And to hell with these goddam absurd thoughts!**

THESE _GROTESQUE_ THOUGHTS!

How can I manage to sleep... with thoughts like these?

* * *

Her breath became soft and regular. She sleeps.

She is indeed knackered, as Mal would say, as far as a Vulcan can be. These days have been really nerve-wracking and irksome, both for me and for her. If her desire for me has been even less than half of what I've felt for her...

I smile to myself. Well! If I have learned anything about a Vulcan's desire during the time we became a clandestine couple, it is that a Vulcan's desire... and needs... are very strong, much more than a Human's.

I chuckle softly. Oh yes. I can testify on that on a personal, well-informed basis.

And - I become again serious - now I can really understand why Vulcans want to suppress, or rather to control their emotions, because if they didn't do it, they would be destroyed by them, unless... unless they had a safe harbour for them.

Like I am for my T'Pol, and these are her words.

I look down at her quiet face, resting peacefully on my chest.

Her lips - fragrant and swollen - are slightly open as she sleeps, showing a little of the white ivory of her lovely teeth. Her delicate eyelids hide the splendour of her eyes, too shy in the half-light to display their dazzling brightness. Her long and graceful eyelashes vibrate gently, while her small nose claims gentle kisses, like her soft and velvety cheeks. The marvellous, enchanting tips of her tiny pointed ears, which are made for nibbling, peep out from beneath her hair, tousled now after our lovemaking.

The vision of the perfect beauty.

I watch her. Incredulous.

She is mine. This unique miracle of nature, as gorgeous in her appearance as admirable in her intelligence... this chest of the most precious and most sparkling treasures...this woman wanted to give herself to me. For me to love.

I don't know what I have done to deserve such a wonderful destiny. No, that's untrue. I know what I did and what I do, and what I will do more and more with the passing of the days and the nights.

I sigh, lowly, to not disturb my T'Pol, savouring the warmth and the softness of her body against mine. My right arm is around her well-rounded shoulders and my left behind my nape, to support my head. And her sweet weight.

I know the reason. It is the love I feel for her, a love so great and so deep that she wanted to be wrapped in it.

But, on the other hand, how the hell could I not have fallen in love with her? She is my destiny. I can't follow any but this road.

I sigh again, still with bated attention. Yeah, yeah. I love my T'Pol more than my life, but if I love her in earnest and I care for her and our love, I must leave.

I would want to taste all the joy, all the pleasure denied to us. To wake up and find my sweet Vulcan girl yet sleeping in my arms, but that's impossible; it isn't allowed to us. If I want us to go on with our love story, I must return to my quarters now, before people start to move about the ship and my exit from her lodging is inevitably noticed. That is what I have to do, in the dark of night, every time we share our intimacy.

I chuckle again, softly and mischievously. Many, many times, I must say. Not to mention those little pleasurable trespasses we have here and there on the ship, now and then. The more forbidden they are, the more... satisfying.

Oh well, enough now. It is useless to complain about something which has no remedy. And what we two have is far beyond what any other people have. I mustn't destroy this unique treasure.

Slow, slow, extremely cautiously, because I know very well how light her sleep is. I disentangle myself from her embrace, then I get up and stand in front of her bed.

I look at her. She whines feebly and turns over between the sheets, in search of me and of a little of warmth.

Quickly, I bend down and, after covering her with the blanket, I place a soft kiss on her forehead.

She softens and quietens immediately. I smile, straightening up.

I will always be proud of the way she relaxes under my touch and my care, whether she is conscious of them or not.

I shake my head and turn around, looking for my clothes. I find them and grudgingly I get dressed again.

One last look at my petite Vulcan love.

Oh well. Let's go.

I head for the door, slowly and unwillingly. I halt in front of it and place my finger upon the opening button.

Oh, darn it! One glance yet!

I turn around, once again, and once again I contemplate my treasure.

I watch her, rapt.

She is small, soft, quiet. She appears confident, all enwrapped in the blanket.

She appears... vulnerable.

Like a little girl, defenceless and dependent on the one who is willing to comprehend her and to care for her.

ME!

I keep on observing her as in a daze, abruptly aware of the extent of what she gave me.

She gave me her reliance and the consciousness of her weaknesses, like only a woman really in love can do.

Only with her love.

Only I can know this side of her. The others can know only her strengths.

Strengths? Which strengths?

The thought strikes me suddenly and strongly.

Which of her strengths do the others recognize? WHICH SORT OF STRENGTHS? **Which, for Beelzebub queue's sake?**

The strength to be rigorous? And firm? And steady? And stern? With everyone and even with herself? The strength to be logical and determined? And icy? Glacial? Unapproachable? A real kick in the ass?

And the strength, the courage to be alone - the only Vulcan on a ship surrounded by unfriendly Humans? Doesn't this strength count?

Have we placed any value on the strength to try to understand these Humans, which are judged by her race as a sort of barbarous cavemen? To want to share their efforts and their hopes? Against her own preconceptions? To **defy** her prejudices, the habits and the beliefs of her whole life, of the culture she grew up in?

Isn't this - THIS! - her true strength? The strength we Humans, so ready to blame her and her race, are constantly in search of?

And...

I lower my head, struck by the depth of understanding which powerfully invaded my brain.

And... the strength to cede to her love, digging down deep inside her soul, any fear and any doubt... the strength to break the barrier which seemed to rise as an insurmountable bastion between her and me, the man who is the complete antipode of a Vulcan male, and even more, of what SHE is...

This strength... will I be... will someone ever be able to comprehend the grandeur of this strength?

And... the strength... the strength...

I lift my eyes to watch my sleeping life reason with this new awareness, an awareness that I fully realize for the first time.

... the strength to give me the courage to dare to open my feelings to her, to want her love... this strength... this strength...

I fold my arms on my chest and clench my eyes, attempting to capture the weird thoughts which started hovering in my mind.

What would have happened - to me, to her - if I hadn't been capable of looking inside myself and understanding, with clarity, what I felt for her? And above all, what if I hadn't been capable of revealing these feelings to her?

What... what sort of Trip would I have become?

A Trip... a Trip different from the one I am? Unhappy and aimless? A... a Trip without her?

I open my eyes and look at my T'Pol, with something... a sort of dumb fear... rolling in my chest.

A Trip without love! WITHOUT **HER** LOVE!

This Trip... this Trip would be a very miserable man! A Trip like this one could meet hard problems and, without the sweet and strong support of his T'Pol, he could succumb to...

I clench my arms to my chest, unable to cease these absurd and... and scary thoughts.

I know the sombre side of myself, and I am not unaware of the gall I could be capable of spewing as I fight against the blows dealt by hard events. With my T'Pol in my life, with her quiet wisdom, with the certainty of her strength next to me, of her firm love around me, I can be only the Trip I am, but... without her?

And... if I hadn't been capable of making her understand that I was in love with her? What would have happened in this case? Would understanding come the moment I finally found the courage to reveal myself to her? Or would she have to be the one who would take the initiative? Or...or would we go on struggling within ourselves, without having the mettle to do anything? Or would she deny her feelings for me, yielding to her fear and to the fear of betraying her heritage? Or...

I wince suddenly.

But what the hell...?

What are these moronic thoughts? From where do they arrive?

There is no other Trip but THIS Trip! Me! The Trip who has his T'Pol. THIS T'Pol! The T'Pol who at this moment is sleeping before me in the bed where we have loved each other with passion and tenderness. The T'Pol who is in love with me, and who says this to me, and demonstrates it to me every day and every night with words and with deeds.

I unfold my arms and stare at her, smiling in bliss.

This T'Pol, yes. The T'Pol I love to such an extent that I am unable to express it.

The T'Pol who returns to me all the love I feel for her.

I shake my head, almost like attempting to clear my mind.

Indeed enough, now. Enough.

I open my lips in a soft and low sigh. "Bye, Hon. Sleep well. Tomorrow I will be again with you."

Like a tad at his first love games, I bring my fingers to my mouth, set a small kiss upon them, then make a gesture with my hand as if I am throwing the kiss to my T'Pol.

"Until tomorrow. Bye, my love."

It's time. I turn around and open the door. This is the most difficult moment because, if someone sees me, the fat would be in the fire. Surely it is not anyone's businesses that I am exiting the Sub-Commander's room at this time of the night, but... the village is little and people murmur. Better if we don't give the opportunity for any chatter.

Anyway, the fact that it's late is reassuring; it's improbable that there can be a living soul around, and there are no noises in the corridor.

I peep out the door. The corridor is empty. I come out very swiftly, while the door closes behind me.

I quickly round the corner. Now the game is over. Whoever I meet in the corridor won't be suspicious. It's usual for me to be late; all people know that I am a night owl.

My quarters. I sigh. My _lonely_ room. Oh c'mon, man! Do not dare to complain. Your room may be lonely, but surely you are **not** alone!

I enter my room. Maybe a shower... Nah. Too late. Tomorrow morning, sure. Now it is better to go to bed.

I am tired. These days... I laugh softly. THIS NIGHT...

I undress rapidly and fall on the bed.

I close my eyes.

I smile while I fall asleep. I know I will dream.

I will dream of my T'Pol.

**

* * *

**

End of Part Two

**TBC**

_Remember: this not an AU. And Puck... what the hell has he to do with all this?_


	3. Chapter 3

**Puck**

**By Asso**

**

* * *

**

Rating:

PG-13

**Genres:** angst, challenge, drama, humour and a lot of romance. Yes.

**Keywords:** PUCK… PUCK AGAIN… PUCK ONCE MORE

* * *

And again the challenge goes on!

Now we are at the third part, and, once again my friends, I desire to remember to you what I said in the first part:  
First. THIS IS NOT AN AU. As far as it can be felt in this way, it is not. But you have to await to understand what I mean.

Second. Puck... what has it got to do with this story? Please, my friends. Patience, a little more.

And obviously and all over again... My grateful thanks to **Dinah**, for her kindness, her agreeableness and her cleverness

_

* * *

_

Part Three  
Puck looks out of the shadows, and laughs at the chaos he sees.

* * *

I dreamed.

I emerge laboriously from my sleep and the cognition that I dreamed gains awareness with difficulty, even if am only able to be conscious that I dreamed and not clearly of what was the subject of my dream.

My eyes open slowly, while I try to focus on reality. That is... deranging, and even in the middle of this unusual circumstance, I fully realize why Vulcans cannot have dreams. They can't run the risk of allowing the ghosts of the unconscious to overwhelm the logic of their minds.

A shiver I am unable to suppress runs through my spine.

I... have already experienced such an awful ordeal, when I gave up on meditating under Tolaris' bad influence, and I have been on the brink of paying the price for my error.

I should have learned my lesson. I shouldn't have neglected to meditate, but evidently the intimate nearness of my Trip...

MY...TRIP!

I open wide my eyes.

The ceiling of my room towers over me. It brings me into the real world, and the perceptions and the sensations I feel nebulously, just like in a dream, acquire substance and... and I become aware that my nostrils are permeated by a scent.

The commander's scent!

Suddenly - vividly - I remember. Vividly, my eyes are full of the images... like my body of the sensations of... of my dream.

Dreamed images... Dreamed! DREAMED SENSATIONS!

Like this scent. LIKE THIS SCENT!

I snap to a seated position on the bed, and I nearly must hiss in pain.

My leaping up whetted the sensation that... that...

This... this muscle soreness... this... stiffness... par... particularly in some zones...

My body is aching all over, even if... even if pl... pleasantly... as if... I don't know... I never had... never did... but... but... I believe that if I... if I...

And... furthermore... in the way... in the way that... in my dream...

And this scent...

THIS SCENT!

My hands snap to my breasts, revealed when the blanket fell away from my bosom. They are not... they are NOT bare! I am wearing my pyjama top, and... and...

I bring my hands down, under the blanket and under the sheet...

My night pants are on. Yes. They... they cover me!

All of a sudden I realize the absurdity of my thoughts and of my acts.

I have perfect memory of my last actions before I went to bed. Vulcans are of fixed habits, and thus I am. I disrobed and tidied my clothes with my usual orderliness; then took a shower, very appreciated after the mental fatigue of these last days; then I put on my pyjamas, lit my candles and meditated. Yes, I am sure I meditated, and, right after, I went to bed and fell asleep.

And I dreamed.

In spite of my meditation. And that is unaccountable. Illogical.

And... I can't help but quiver slightly ... my dream was so lifelike. That... that... scent... and my body...

I shake myself. That's not good, I have to do something.

Purposely and meticulously, I begin to breathe regularly and deeply, using my Vulcan training in order to clarify my mind and to quiet my illogical uneasiness, the irrational turmoil I feel inside.

It works. Little by little, reality regains its right place and, still following the teachings of my Vulcan education, my brain starts to pigeonhole all the events of the last days, rationally, methodically and chronologically, like the Vulcan I am has to do.

Every word I said and heard, every action I did and saw, every sensation I perceived from the others and I felt inside me, including the - I must admit - unnerving feelings I experienced because of the Captain's behaviour and - I must admit again - the annoying and unpleasant feelings I had in regard to his attempt to test the possibility of a relationship between him and me... all get analyzed and well-settled in my mind. This is the logical way to separate reality from dreams, even if dreams aren't something I am expert in.

I retrace in my mind everything, also the effort I made in order to reply politely to the Captain when he apologized to me, clearly trying, even if unconsciously, to find an opening in my shield.

This is a sensation my dream magnified, demonstrating with perspicuity how dreams take things whose meaning was totally different in the real world to strange upshots and cloaking with a layer of bizarre logic which has no logic. Dreams are capable of mixing reality with fantasy, which is very dangerous for the equilibrium of the Vulcan mind.

It's incredible. In my dream every occurrence acquired an antic tint, like it was meant to be ... innocent. Sure. Innocent. A face-off between me and the Captain in the gym, which, in my dream, was a sort of vindictive retaliation from me toward him, which is... which is absolutely - ABSOLUTELY - fake. Then there were the suggestions that the Commander gave me so that I was able to better handle the Captain's improper conduct, because it is true - as the Commander said in my dream - that I "didn't have the tools," but this doesn't mean that, even if we really work well together, we are "a very close-knit team," or... or at least not in the significance he and I placed on at this... terminology, in my dream. That's more, like the... the resentment I felt and, honestly, I feel yet for the Doctor because of the not unfounded suspicion that he had something to do with the Captain's unwitting "overture" towards me. In my dream, this has been taken to such an extent that I and the Commander... that we... that the two of us...conspired together, more or less unconsciously, to punish the Doctor.

A black eye! That I and the commander provided to him! Practically deliberately, for... for vengeance.

Unbelievable!

Logic doesn't permit me to deny that when my keen hearing caught the Doctor's words about the Captain's Pillarian slips, as he expressed himself, just after I left the sickbay, I felt a great wish to severely rebuke him. He was evidently pushing the Captain in a direction that I perceived as strongly embarrassing for the Captain and, ultimately, also for me. What happened subsequently has clearly attested to the Doctor what I did in the dream...

And... to doing all I did in this dream... with the Commander...

And the sensations I felt... together with him...

The... feelings... I had... for him...

I get up slowly. My training worked, but... but not completely, I think, not in the way it should have done.

I take my robe and put it on. Maybe... maybe doing something ordinary like wearing my robe or scheduling my day or working a little before I get a shower, like I do every morning... or quickly researching about the strange fact that my meditation wasn't capable of preventing me from dreaming... maybe all that can be of some help.

Sure. Because...

I sit down at my desk and I switch on the computer to examine what we recorded of the Kreetassans' planet and the space around it.

Perhaps I could find something helpful to explain why my meditation failed.

I lock my eyes on the screen and begin to scan attentively all the data which scrolls on it.

If nothing else, that will be useful in order... in order to... to not think too logically, because...

Because...

That's... disconcerting. Never had it happened to me that logic's practice brought about outcomes not exactly logical; nevertheless, this is what has just happened now, because the reasons I dreamed what I dreamed are NOT logical.

Or... or...

Or... maybe... by means of this dream, logic wants to compel me to accept finally... and logically... what I didn't want to acknowledge long since, and... and... Illogically. I prefer to not focus too much on these illogical reasons why I dreamed about the Commander.

Oh stop!

All that is illogical! And... and untrue! I am Vulcan and I am T'Pol!

And I don't... I don't...

I AM NOT! I... I am not an illogical Human female, or an Orion female. Vulcan females control their basic instincts; they are not ready to fall at the feet of the man who gives off a scent as... as enthralling as the... the Commander's scent...

... to... to the feet of such a handsome... and intriguing... and challenging... and...

STOP!

These thoughts are the thoughts of my dream! They are made with the dream's fabric; they have nothing to do with reality. With me. With the real T'Pol. I'm not... I'M NOT!.. the T'Pol of my dream!

How dangerous, for real - now I am able to understand that - is the dreaming, the allowing myself to indulge in the fallacious reality of the dreams, in their impalpable and mendacious truth, in... in the treacherous logic of their indistinct fantasy world, where the frontier between reality and absurd imaginativeness becomes so tenuous and subtle.

I realize that I am looking absently at the screen. The data is mere numbers now for me; they don't mean anything. I am incapable of focusing on them.

I react. Enough with this dream! Enough of thinking about the logic of the T'Pol of this dream.

I'm not the T'Pol of my dream!

That T'Pol doesn't exist. She is a... a dream T'Pol. She belongs to another realm, to another dimension. The logic which pushed her to ... to give herself to the Commander, to betray her Vulcan heritage, is bogus. There is no such logic. It is false; it is of another world, the world the T'Pol of my dream comes from.

Why am I feeling so... so... so what? Such an...an un-Vulcan, such a... joyously happy... T'Pol cannot exist, but in a dream.

And I don't know why. Maybe because the same thing that caused my meditation to be unsuccessful - this time the real logic, the one true logic, the logic of the real world I belong to - is deceiving me.

Because...

Because there is no reason - logical or illogical - which explains why I dreamed about the commander. As far as I know, it is simply that dreams are made so. The siren call of the Commander's scent, the scent which has persecuted me from the start, is NOT a valid reason.

I'VE SAID ENOUGH! STOP! What is this sort of circular mental motion that has bogged me down? Is it the damaging contagion of the Human I have been living with for the past few months?

The Commander's detrimental contamination?

The Commander!

Stop with him!

I dreamed about him by mere accident! Nothing else.

And... there is no reason, logical or illogical, which can explain why I did all I did with him in my dream.

And able to explain why I felt those... those... those sensations... together with him...

And why... I had those feelings... for him...

In my dream.

* * *

I dreamed.

This is not unusual for me - or rather it is not unusual that I have to wake up still under the dream's influence, still uncertain between the world of dreams and the world of reality. May my fanciful nature be damned!

But this time, that is particularly keen. I would have sworn that I had fallen asleep in my bed, after taking off my clothes and making them shipshape. This is truly unusual for me.

Instead, at my awakening I found myself fully dressed. My bed was still arranged as a settee; this is what is indeed usual for me.

I sit up, leaning my elbows on my knees, and shake my head, attempting to emerge from the night's haziness.

Damn! What a pain! What is this muscle soreness? This body ache which I feel all over? Is it only due to fact that I slept like this? I did this a heap of times. What is happening to me? And what is this sensation of a treat that is mixed with the muscular stiffness

Treat.

There was... there was... I clench my eyes, trying to remember.

Yes, a treat. That was in my dream. And pleasure. Yes, pleasure. And something else. I'm sure that all this was in the dream. It was a hell of a pleasurable dream, for Pete's sake! Why am I not capable of remembering it? It's usual with dreams, I know, but this one had to be so damnably nice!

It involved... I smirk ... I'm sure it involved a female, a damn beautiful female. Yes, she and I did - I smirk again - a whole lot of things together. And, if I'm not deceiving myself about the reasons which cause my musculature's achiness, I lived these things in a very real way, while sleeping. Evidently, I floundered... very much.

I smile. The consequence of the... deprivation, T'Pol would say.

T'Pol?

I stand up slowly and bring my hands to my back. Then I stretch, leaning backward and trying in this way to give a little of relief to my achy muscles.

T'Pol...

I straighten up.

T'Pol...

There is something...

I move toward my desk. Psyched up.

T'Pol...

What is dawning on me? I was thinking of my dream. What the hell has she to do with...

I halt, thunderstruck.

Of course she has something to do with my dream! It was her!

Her visage rises clearly from the fog of my awakening. And... damn it! Not only her visage!

Oh well! Nothing strange. If my... deprivation... pushed me to have that sort of dreams, surely she is every bit as good as the other females, even more, judging by her "awfully nice bum", to speak with Malcolm's words. And yes - now that I remember with more clarity - if what I was able to see of her in my dream matches the truth, which cannot be doubted, considering the view of her that I had in the decon chamber, she is decidedly worthy.

I chuckle mischievously. Holy shit, how she is worthy!

Then my chuckle dies on my mouth.

Yeah. I think... I think she would be really worthy while making love. With me.

Like in my dream.

I sit down slowly again on my bed.

Well! It's...it's natural. There is nothing strange if I have such thoughts. I am a male; she is a female. A darn attractive female. So, there is nothing strange if I dreamed I was making love with her. ABSOLUTELY nothing strange.

Nothing.

M... maybe it could sound a little stranger...

Little by little, initially with difficulty, then more and more easily, the contours of my dream become more defined. The contours... the words... and the substance...

…maybe it sounds a little stranger - the words... and the substance... of my dream.

We...we... T'Pol and I... not only made love - and a hell of hot love, holy crap! - we... we were in love with one other. Madly in love!

Odd, how I was able to forget this dream. And... and odd, very odd that I am now capable of remembering it in its entirety.

It is as if the images of my dream are embossed on my mind - the images and the words.

Those that I said to T'Pol and those that T'Pol said to me.

And they were words of love.

Like our actions. And my thoughts.

And, like it happens in the dreams, the reality of what we, she and I, have gone through during these last days, was distorted and revised within the distorting and revising logic of the dreams, so that all which happened and all which we did was seen through the lens of our...of our dreamed love.

Like our exchanging of bits of advice, like the suggestions I gave her to straighten the Captain's behaviour out.

Like our exchange of confidences... no, namely... of... of useful information with regard to what the Captain told me of the twat... mh, no... the too zealous professional conduct of the doctor, in order to compel him to act more wisely, or...or what T'Pol had to... to undergo... yes! TO UNDERGO, HOLY SHIT! From that... that moron of a captain... hum, no... viz... that... that temporarily disordered - un... unexplainably temporarily disordered - mind of my old friend, when he... when he tried surreptitiously - unconsciously, sure, unconsciously!... to... to... DAMNIT! Really the doctor deserves a black eye from T'Pol and me! Like in my dream! He and his damn doctoral wisdom! Damn pompous, conceited doctor! But how can one think to put a poor inexperienced girl - Human or Vulcan, this doesn't matter - in such a discomforting situation? How? What thoughtlessness, my dear doctor! What shrewdness!

I... I...

But...but what the hell...?

I leap off my bed. But what the hell am I thinking? What... what are these...these feelings? This anger that I feel. And this... this...

It was a dream, holy mackerel! A DREAM!

T'Pol... a... a poor girl? Defenceless and unarmed like a lily?

She and I ... taking revenge on the doctor? In that way? For his stupid - oh yes, stupid, no doubt about that - behaviour? And... and me... me in love with her? With such a... a stubborn and upsetting and annoying and... and...

I NEVER DID MEET A WOMAN SO...SO...

Oh beautiful, yes! And smart. And challenging. Yes, challenging. It is very challenging to argue with her, and it's true that she and I are capable of working very well together, like... like a... a "very close-knit team". Sure. But only in a... in a professional way! I could never fall in love with such an unnerving female, thought-provoking though her personality may be, beautiful though she may be.

Oh yes, because that's undeniable. I would be a fool if I didn't acknowledge that. There...there are moments when she is capable of making everything fade away, replenishing all, like it happened when I met her the first time, when... when...

WHEN THAT DAMNED FEMALE REFUSED TO TAKE MY HAND, FOR PETE'S SAKE!

And turned her back on me, treating me with all that shitty Vulcan haughtiness of hers.

Damn! Damn! Damn! Damn of a pretty and pesky Vulcan female!

Me! Me in love with her!

But... but where the hell did such a dream come from?

Was there something on that planet that was capable of provoking such idiotic thoughts, by chance?

Oh yes! Maybe it's so. Maybe this is the reason why the Captain was forced to act in such a moronic way. Sure. And to push the doctor to do what he did. And to sink me into such a bizarre dream. So... so weird that I was almost unable to remember it when I woke up, and right after, to see and relive it fully in my mind. So vividly, so really. Like it was true.

In my mind and in my...

In my...

Oh damn!

I sit again on my bed.

I... I feel strange.

Such a vivid dream.

So very real.

Lifelike.

But it was a dream.

That Trip... that Trip of my dream... he... he is a dream. Exactly that. Nothing else. He does not exist.

Like the T'Pol of my dream does not exist.

She was a dream. A hell of lively dream, that's for sure. My... my achy muscles can testify to that.

But it was a dream.

A... a very beautiful dream, I must admit.

I place my elbows on my knees and lean my chin on my hands.

Such a T'Pol... such a T'Pol...

Yes, it was a damnedly beautiful dream, to tell the truth.

But... it was dream.

* * *

Oh well, this is really unnerving. Even if everything ended in the best way, these thoughts... weird thoughts... about T'Pol and...

...and about Trip...

Sleep has arrived, but I can't say that it is satisfactory. Too many...too many unwelcome dreams. Dreams involving T'Pol, once more, and... and this time also Trip. Together... with her.

Okay, enough now. Things cannot go ahead in this way. I'll call Phlox now and...

NO.

No. I don't want to see him. I... I am angry with him. And then, if... if he was still desirous to go on with his damned game about T'Pol and about my...

I can hear what the doctor would say to me.

Yes, I can hear him.

I can hear him...

I can...

I can...

I... can...

...I...

... can...

... I...

_"Are you still having trouble sleeping, Captain?"_

_"Well, Phlox..."_

_"Strange, I have to say, considering, by way of summary, the good turn that events took."_

_"Phlox..."_

_"Captain, how long has it been since you were intimate with a woman?"_

_"Phlox! Not again!"_

_"Excuse me, Captain, but if you want to sleep, I am persuaded that you should resolve your problems with the sub-commander."_

_"I have NO PROBLEMS with the sub-commander, Doctor."_

_"If you continue to have trouble with your sleep, this could negatively affect your behaviour. You should remember these last days."_

_"I said..._

_"And you should remember that you are the captain."_

_"Doctor, I said..."_

_"Medicines are not a solution."_

_"I HAVE NO PROBLEMS, I SAID!"_

_"If you say so."_

_"YES! I say so! I..."_

I wake up suddenly.

Again. I fell asleep without noticing and I dreamed. Again. I slipped inadvertently from the obsessive thoughts of my half-sleeping to the disturbing dreams of my sleep. Again. These damned awry dreams!

AGAIN!

I sit up on my bed, trying to return to the real world.

I look down at Porthos. He is lying beside me and has lifted his head.

He is looking at me with his large eyes. He seems to be asking me a question.

I scratch his ears affectionately.

You are right, my little friend. What the hell is happening to me? What do I want? What...what am I thinking?" About me? About T'Pol? And... about Trip?

Maybe I really should call the doctor.

No. Even if it would do me good, I don't want his help, especially if the outcome of his help is the same.

No. Another time. For now I prefer not to see him.

Before I see him again, I have to regain a little bit of dignity and... and to cease thinking of T'Pol. And of Trip. And... of that look they exchanged.

I get up and go toward the window. The spectacle hasn't changed: the same space, the same lights which slide quickly around us.

The same thought is in my brain.

I turn around and look at the clock.

It's early, even if the bulk of the night is over.

I have to do something; I don't want to keep on sleeping this sort of sleep.

Maybe... maybe I could go to the mess hall for breakfast. It's unusual for me, but I have done it a few times. Amid the small crowd of the early morning, I could forget all these thoughts.

Yes. No bed anymore and no dreams anymore.

And... no doctor.

A shower.

Then, the mess hall.

Maybe I might meet Trip. I know he is in the habit of having his breakfast in the early morning, in the mess hall.

And I might talk with him.

Nonchalantly and casually ask him about himself... and T'Pol.

And so... I might erase these strange thoughts from my head. Oh sure, because I know that Trip - the true Trip - is... is absolutely far from the Trip of my dreams. That Trip doesn't exist.

He is... he is from another world, from the dimension of my dreams.

Yes, a little talk with my old friend is what I need. He... he will be capable of dispelling these weird thoughts.

He will be able to explain to me what that "look" really meant.

Or namely... that it didn't mean anything.

* * *

End of Part Three

TBC

This is not an AU... This is not an AU... This is not an AU... This is not an AU...

And this damned Puck... but what the hell has he to do with all this?


	4. Chapter 4

**Puck**

**By Asso**

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* * *

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Rating: PG-13

**Genres:** angst, challenge, drama, humour

**Keywords: **_**Puck... what does he like to do?**_

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* * *

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**Puck likes to disorient the wayfarers**

That's pleasant. Vulcans don't indulge in life's pleasures. Personal hygiene is merely behooving and logical, but I must admit that I'm starting to understand and to relish, sometimes, the way Humans are in the habit of joining necessities with delightfulness.

Like the shower. Vulcans have it, obviously, but they don't wallow in the enjoyment of its spurting warm water.

Like I have learned to do.

Maybe I should feel guilty for that; it is a deviation from the traditional Vulcan path. But I don't feel so, I find this relaxing and... useful. Similar somehow to meditation.

I turn slowly around, eyes closed, savouring the feel of the toasty water against my skin.

Soft and strong and warm, almost like the touch... the touch...

Oh, T'Pol, stop it! Stop thinking of that dream. AND STOP THINKING OF...

For the umpteenth time since I awakened, I try to reset my brain, while the water keeps on caressing my body.

Naked, like in my dream.

The steam winds it. It's...it's sensual, like the nearness of my nude body to the nude body of the Commander... in my dream.

I realize that my efforts are futile. The reality and the sensations of my dream dominate my mind. I can't detach myself from them.

Why? And why did I dream? In spite of my meditation? And why did I have this... this peculiar dream? And why can't I stop thinking of it?

I... I know why, I...

No! That's untrue! There is another reason. Yes! The reason is not that I... that I...

I turn off the faucet a little bit petulantly, open the shower door and grab my bathrobe.

I wrap myself up with it. It is comforting, like the embrace...

I almost jerk. **That must end!**

It is absolutely necessary that I examine attentively that strange thing I found when I analyzed the sensor readings of the planet and its environs.

A space anomaly, that's sure, but how freakish. I've never seen anything similar to it, and, as far as I can remember, there is no trace in the Vulcan database.

A sort of little throb, a pulsation in space's weft, full of energy, indefinable and elusive, gambolling... yes... gambolling here and there, whimsically, in space, all around the planet. And all around _Enterprise_.

Maybe I should speak of it to the Captain. No. It would be better if I had more information first. He could ask me why I wanted to undertake this research in regard to the planet and I should respond. That would be embarrassing, considering the... recent issues we have had between us.

"_Captain the fact is that I dreamed."_

"_You?"_

"_Yes."_

"_I thought Vulcans don't dream."_

"_That's why I want to do this research."_

"_Well, I can understand that you wanted to find the reasons why you dreamed, but frankly you acted rapidly. Maybe the dream's subject had something to do with that?"_

"_Captain, I would prefer not to go deeper into details."_

"_No?"_

_"No, Captain."_

No. Better if I wait to have something more defined. I learned how curious Humans can be, and the Captain is no exception. Not infrequently he tends to be insistent, using the pretext that the captain has to know everything on his ship. And even if I... were hiding the truth, this would be equally inexpedient, unworthy of a true Vulcan.

Mh... perhaps... perhaps if I reveal my discovery to the Commander, he could help me. He may be...may be handsome, that's undeniable, and also irritating, even that is undeniable, but he is also smart and - how would he say it? - sharp, yes. And then... then... he has that strange thing that Humans call intuitiveness. That has always worked well with my logic. Actually... actually it's true that we have been capable of being a very "_close-knit team_" in... "_lots of different circumstances._"

BUT NEVER WILL THESE CIRCUMSTANCES BE LIKE THOSE OF MY DREAM!

**Never!**

And the warmth I feel on the tips of my ears is simply the consequence of the passage from the shower's heat to the colder environment of my room. Nothing else than that!

Professional relationship. Only that. Why should the Commander be different from the Captain? Because of his attractive aspect? Or for his hair, so sunny and charming? Or for those eyes, blue and shining? Or for his smile? WHAT ABOUT HIS SMILE, WHICH MIGHT BE ENTHRALLING?

**And what has his scent? WHAT? NOTHING!**

Nothing.

The Commander is merely a man like all the others. And... and Human, in addition! And illogical and unpredictable and emotional and volatile and annoying and...

And...

**And he cannot be the Commander of my dream!**

Never will my dream be anything else but a dream, an illogical and bizarre dream.

And if, at this moment, I want to see the Commander and to talk with him, it is only because I know that he might be of some help to me in order to understand what that strange space anomaly is.

ONLY FOR THAT!

During this day I will call him and...

Mh, but...but what will I say to him?

"_Commander, I would like to ask for your cooperation in order to clarify something I found regarding Kreetassans' planet."_

"_You did some research about it?"_

"_I did."_

"_Is there anything which bothered you?"_

"_Commander, I would prefer not to go deeper into details."_

"_No?"_

_"No, Commander."_

Mh, no. That doesn't work. That... that damned, as he would say, percipience he has would make him suspicious, and I... I learned that it's difficult to hide something from him. Probably the better thing is that I go into the matter casually, taking advantage of some conversation, altogether casual, and during a... casual encounter, which would be altogether fortuitous. Yes, that is the right way.

Mh, maybe...

I look at the clock. It's early morning. I know that the Commander is in habit of eating breakfast... bright and early, like he would say. He doesn't sleep much, works continually and is used to repeating the phrase, "the morning has gold in its mouth_."_

Well, I think I understand what he means, but what I am unable to understand is how it is possible that sometimes he pronounces another idiom, and with the same certitude, an idiom that, apparently, if its meaning is the one I think it has to be, is in full contrast with the first. What is it? Ah, yes. "_All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy."_

Really cryptic and somewhat clashing with the workaholic, which the Commander appears to be, and still a very good fit for him, especially if one thinks that he sounds like he is teasing himself while saying it.

Surely the Commander is a tangle of contradictions, and that makes him really interesting.

Mh. Mh...mh...

Yes. Viewed from this perspective, things can be seen in another light.

Sure, considering the incomprehensible mixture of intelligence and illogicality that the Commander is, it is perfectly understandable that I find him absorbingly interesting. That and nothing else, absolutely N-O-T-H-I-N-G E-L-S-E, is the reason why he is so... intriguing to me. In fact, no other Human man can be so demonstrative of the Human being's way. He is an absorbing and useful object for scientific observation about Human behaviour, and this - just this - makes me think of him... so often. All that plus the fact that indubitably his scent is peculiar for that of a Human and, consequently, equally worthy of some interest on my part, made my subconscious misinterpret my thoughts about the Commander, and so I ultimately dreamed that dream.

I look at my image in the mirror, tightening the bathrobe around me. My face looks... satisfied. Well, maybe this is not very Vulcan-like, but I can't help but think this isn't bad. It is always very satisfying when logic manages to settle all things in the right way. And this is what has just been happening.

I succeeded in putting everything in the right place. My logic didn't fail me.

The Commander's likeable aspects - his athletic appearance, the pleasant sound of his voice together with the attractiveness of its cadence, the intriguing appeal of his offhanded and brisk manners blended with the niceness of his gentlemanly deportment - as far as they can be true and real, have nothing to do with any sort of attraction he is able to exert over me. They are NOT the reasons that I dreamed about him, and that I dreamed about him... the way I did. It has merely been the work of my subconscious, deceived by my inner thoughts, owing to the illogicality of the dreams.

And not even his scent, as far as it is unique and as far as it struck me - inexplicably - all along, is a valid reason.

My logic has found the reasons for the substance of my dream.

These reasons and no other ones.

NO OTHER ONES.

Satisfaction grows inside me. I am the same logical Vulcan woman I was before I met Humans and... and Commander Charles Tucker the Third.

Now two other things remain to be explained logically.

_First:_ Why did I dream in spite of meditation? That's important because finding the cause is necessary in order to shield some others of my race from the possibility of a repetition of this dangerous event.

_Second:_ Why did the dream's substance appear to be so real that I found it... very hard to distinguish reality from the subconscious's unreal constructs?

It's logical to presume that these things are connected, that they are two sides of the same problem. It's likewise logical to presume that that never seen phenomenon I detected could be the root of both contingencies.

So in the final analysis, it's of the utmost importance that I analyze that freak phenomenon very attentively and very soon, availing myself of the helpful aid of the Commander. Now that I am able to regain my Vulcan composure, I'm sure I will be capable of not revealing to him why I felt this research was necessary, which actually could be embarrassing. He is not the captain, who needs to know all, and he is capable of being discreet, if needed.

Maybe I might leverage his undeniable concern for other people to gain his cooperation. And... and his concern doesn't exclude me. Not at all.

Not...not at all.

Obviously because I'm a member of the crew, because I am a member of the ship which is under his control as Chief Engineer. Surely nothing more than that.

And... it's only logical that I feel gratified to have his concern and respect. I toiled to gain the crew's reliance.

I look again at the clock. Better not waste time. The logic of my reasoning, regarding the opportunity to go casually into the matter of my request to the Commander during a casual conversation with him, is still perfectly valid. Obviously, it's a matter of logical strategy that I initiate such a... casual encounter. Consequently, if I hurry, it's probable that I can meet the Commander in the Mess Hall, while he is eating his breakfast. This logical strategy will allow me to not delay the solution to such an important issue, because it's true that _"the morning has gold in its mouth."_ I, too, have been seen sometimes eating my breakfast in the Mess Hall at an early hour.

Yes. It's a matter of logical strategy. That's the reason why it's necessary I meet the Commander soon.

Now.

A matter of logical strategy.

Nothing else than that.

I dress hastily and head for the door.

Mh... maybe...

I halt and go toward my bathroom. I enter it and look again at the mirror.

I observe my image.

Mh...

I... I do not think I'm disagreeable. Even... even when viewed by a Human man.

Probably a little too stern by Human standard, but... if try to soften a tiny bit...

Yes. That... that could work.

Human men are very sensitive to women's features, and the Commander is no exception.

Most likely a little... softness on my part could be useful to make him even more willing to help me.

It's... it's a matter of logical strategy.

Nothing more than that.

I turn around and rush to the door of my quarters.

I open it and go out into the corridor, still desert at this very early hour.

I scurry along the corridor. I don't want to lose the opportunity to meet the Commander.

It's a matter of logical strategy.

Nothing more than that.

While hurrying, I check my hair. I want to appear as winsome as possible.

It's a matter of logical strategy.

Nothing more than that.

* * *

Ahhh, good! A hurray for the shower's inventor.

Do you want to smooth out fatigue? Take a shower.

Do you want to regain energy? Take a shower.

Do you want to forget troubles? Take a shower.

Do you want to forget... I frown, under the warm flowing water. Do you want to forget that dream? Take a shower.

Sure. It will help you.

But it isn't true.

Oh, stop it, man!

I switch off the faucet.

You say that no woman alive is more pestiferous than her, but then you are incapable of forgetting that dream. And... of her in that dream. You are really a tangle of contradictions, my dear Chief Engineer.

I can't help but laugh. Hey! That dream had indeed had a bad influence on you, Commander, didn't it? Since when do you use the expression she utilizes when referring to you? And since when do you feel that it's... sweet? Pleasant?

Some sort of anger begins to arise inside me. Damn woman! Not even the shower is capable of coming out on top against her! What was always able to calm me, doesn't work now. May all the Vulcan females be damned perpetually! And Sub-Commander T'Pol ahead of all of them! How is it possible she can be capable of bamboozling me not only when I am awake, but also when I am asleep? And even making my intimate moments in the shower unsatisfactory. Damn kick on the ass of an irritating Vulcan bitch!

I briskly open the shower's door and come out. With a quick and miffed gesture, I grasp a towel and vigorously start to dry my body.

Bitch!

Bitch...

I slow little by little my gestures.

Bitch. No, you can't say that of her, man. That's untrue and unfair.

Different, sure. She's not Human; she's Vulcan. She can't be or behave like a Human woman. She is not. But... bitch... Why should she be that? She is simply who she is.

And...

I sit down slowly on my bed, the towel wrapped around my hips.

And... she is a damn _lonely_ Vulcan female.

Strange, this thought... I'd never had it before. What was the thought of that other Trip, the Trip of my dream?

_[And the strength, the courage to be alone - the only Vulcan on a ship surrounded by unfriendly Humans? Doesn't this strength count?_

_Have we placed any value on the strength to try to understand these Humans, which are judged by her race as a sort of barbarous cavemen? To want to share their efforts and their hopes? Against her own preconceptions? To _**_defy_** _her prejudices, the habits and the beliefs of her whole life, of the culture she grew up in?_

_Isn't this - THIS! - her true strength? The strength we Humans, so ready to blame her and her race, are constantly in search of?]_

These thoughts... these thoughts... could they mirror the truth? Could all that be true? And... it's strange that I manage to remember them perfectly, as if they were my own, not the thoughts of that other Trip, that...that foreign person who was in my dream.

I lower my head pensively. This dream... this dream... is really peculiar. I know that dreams are not infrequently the way our subconscious brings to light what is buried deep down inside us, truths we are incapable of recognizing in the reality of the world which surrounds us. Was this dream the way in which my subconscious wanted me to acknowledge the hidden and... and noble strength T'Pol possesses?

Such a great and... fascinating strength that it might make it possible that I could... I could fall in love with her?

I snort. Nah! This is foolishness. That I can find her... appetizing, well! This has to be taken for granted, darn it! With that bum she has, not to mention the... remainder. But... in love with her! It would be necessary that I was really another Trip. Ridiculous. And equally it was impossible for T'Pol to be in love with me, like she was... like she was in my dream.

Nah, nah. What that other Trip, the Trip of my dream, thought of her exasperating way of behaving, of interacting with the others, can't be contested.

_[Which of her strengths do the others recognize? WHICH SORT OF STRENGTHS? _**_Which, for Beelzebub queue's sake?_**

_The strength to be rigorous? And firm? And steady? And stern? With everyone and even with herself? The strength to be logical and determined? And icy? Glacial? Unapproachable? A real kick in the ass?]_

A real kick in the ass. That's what she is. Just that, for... **for Beelzebub queue's sake?**

Sure. Of course. Indeed.

But... if by chance there was only some sort of reaction from her or rather an alteration of her Vulcan ways which would ameliorate the animosity she feels around her? To lessen the amount of time she spends in solitude?

And it doesn't have to be forgotten that the majority of the crew is male, and she is beautiful and Vulcan and... **exotic** and consequently even more... exciting for a handful of primitive Human males.

Like... like for the Captain. Just so. Like for the Captain!

And this propensity from the males surely doesn't make her very popular among most of the females on the ship.

She must defend herself somehow, and in what the hell other way can a Vulcan female defend herself and try to survive and combat her solitude, if not in the only way she knows?

A Vulcan female who... _doesn't have the tools_?

I get up and go toward my bathroom to finish my morning preparation. I feel meditative and engrossed in my thoughts. That's not my own. Is... is it that other Trip? Can a dream that I was almost incapable of remembering become so vivid because that other Trip... the Trip of my dream...is as real as me? And he wants me to recognize...

To recognize... what?

I look at my face in the mirror. What is that puzzled expression on it? Why these thoughts? Why do I feel this way? Why the hell has a galling Vulcan female come so impudently to my mind? In my dreams and even in my thoughts while I am fully awake? Just right after that the Captain... What does she want from my life, holy shit? What does that other Trip want from me? What... what does he want me to recognize?

That I...that I...

I grasp the razor and begin to shave nervously. With... with rage. Against myself.

I watch myself fixedly while I shave.

Oh, come on, man! But what the devil are these thoughts which swirl in your brain? Don't you remember who she is? Don't you remember the wrath which blew up inside you when she ignored your proffered hand? When she turned her back to you? How can you forget her haughtiness? How can you forget that, in your heart, you swore to pay her back for her superciliousness?

Could you forget all that because of...

I stop shaving. I observe the face of the man in the mirror. It's my face. And, nevertheless, it looks... foreign.

... _Because of those wonderful eyes of hers? Of those eyelashes, so long and delicate? Of that little nose which begs to be caressed on the tip, tenderly and delicately, with the soft touch of willing lips? Of those delicious pointed ears which must be nibbled? Of those lips... fragrant... turgid... which demand... to be kissed... passionately?_

_Because of that subtle perfume... alien... unknown... enthralling... which emanates from her tiny, shapely, charming figure?_

_Because of those small hands of hers, of those willowy arms that would fit so well around... around my... my...?_

The foreign man in the mirror scrutinizes me. Attentively. Is he... that other Trip? Is he... tempting me?

Is he suggesting to me that... that if I were acting like him, if I were saying to T'Pol that I... that I...

And that, maybe, in this case, she... she could... she could...

SHE COULD WHAT! For Satan's horns! Could she, by chance... reciprocate... reciprocate... my... my... ?

MY ANYTHING!

My a-n-y-t-h-i-n-g, may I be damned! **Anything**!

Anything.

And then... she... she is a block of ice. A... a frostbound iceberg. She's the queen of frost. How could it be possible that a... a feeling, the tiniest feeling, can come from such a frosty marble statue?

Yeah. Sure. Of course. It's impossible and absurd to think that things could be anything more than simply professional from me toward her.

Sure.

I finish my shaving with only a few moves. Nervily.

Sure.

Sure. But... considering all that, why... why the hell, if she is this damn algid ice doll... why the hell does she search for me no matter whatever... whatever need she has?

She doesn't say it, no, she doesn't say... but... yes... after all... she does that.

And... I must admit... I must admit that I do the same with her. When I am in need... when I am in need...

OH MAN! But this is nothing strange! Obviously, you merely search for the advice of the most skilled person on the ship! The one who has the greatest experience. Because that's absolutely true. And you search for her advices only because of that. Only that.

Nothing more than that.

And she... she... obviously... she knows that I am well up in my own expertise. And when she needs someone who is able to give her some help in regard to technical questions, or... or, considering my extroverted character, in regard to some issues connected with Human beings, she - LOGICALLY - searches for me. ONLY THAT.

Only that.

Nothing more than that.

Yeah. Sure.

Of course.

I come out of the bathroom, let the towel fall down and begin to dress slowly.

Nothing more than that, indeed. Even if... even if I don't believe that I am deceiving myself when I think that she feels glad... yes, glad... whenever we work together and whenever we achieve good results from our work.

Like me, on the other hand. But that... that... is logical, as she would say. It is gratifying, when people are capable of reaching their aim, working together so as to improve their job.

Sure. The... the same is valid for me, obviously. That's why I... feel glad when I work with her. Only that.

Nothing more than that.

Or... or maybe is there something else in her attitude toward me? Namely... She... she feels lonely. That... that is true, after all. There is no need to be that other Trip, the one of my dream, to acknowledge that this is true. Maybe... probably... when, after... after we have argued, I smile at her, meaning that I feel glad that we have reached a good result, she... she feels less lonely...she feels glad that someone... **_ME_**... smiled at her. All that is very Human, certainly. But she has been learning to know Humans. A little.

Maybe...maybe she has been also learning to know... to know me. A little. Just a little, at least.

And so... who knows... somehow, she could feel... for me... she could...

Oh nonsense!

And then, why the hell might I want that she... that she...?

I AM NOT THE TRIP OF MY DREAM! I am THIS Trip!

Enough, now!

Time to go to work. And to cease to have these thoughts.

And to think of my dream.

I get dressed. I am ready.

Go to the Mess Hall, man. As you are in the habit of doing every morning. At the earliest hour. Aren't you the one who says constantly that "_the morning has gold in its mouth"_?

I reach my door and open it. I go into the empty corridor. People are not yet crowding it. Yeah, they are wiser than me. They know that "a_ll work and no play makes Jack a dull boy."_

I walk quickly toward the Mess Hall for my breakfast.

Maybe... it's possible that... I will find the Sub-Commander there. Sometimes she takes her breakfast there. It's rare, but she does that from time to time.

In the early hours.

Alone.

Perhaps... if I meet her... I might... I might chat her up. Casually. Without wanting to bicker. I might make this clear with my words. And also with my deeds. Yes. I might invite her to share her breakfast with me.

I might tell her that Humans are in the habit of doing this, so as not to feel... not to feel alone.

And I might justify my words and my invitation simply with my well-known chutzpa.

She would raise her eyebrow and then... yes... then she would accept.

Of course, because, Vulcan or not, annoying or not, it is true that she is smart and curious and...

... alone.

And I could see to it that she feels less alone.

Yes.

And that would be simple courtesy. Yes. Simple, pure courtesy.

Simple, pure courtesy toward an... an important member of the crew. As she... as she has become. An... _essential_...member.

Pure _Human_ courtesy.

Only that.

Nothing more than that.

* * *

May the First Healer help me! Okay, Denobulans dream vividly, sometimes so vividly that their dreams can seem to be veritable hallucinations. But, dreams like this one...

And luckily, it was a dream!

But... people... do you think? Do you think of me, acting in... in that way? I mean... such a message to the Professor Sotutto? That I am brave, okay... may this be. But, I am not a fool. I am not ready to do something so brainless. It would be professional suicide.

Eh no! Not at all.

Though all that sounds so real.

For my wives' heads! What a dream! Indeed real. No, more lifelike. Yes, thus it has to be called.

Really lifelike.

I smile broadly while I, yet half-asleep, drop my legs over the edge of the bed.

Yes, lifelike.

I head cheerfully toward the bathroom I have for my personal use in the sickbay, to make my matutinal ablutions.

Strange. I find it difficult to make my way because my vision... my eye...

Oh yes. Lifelike, incredibly lifelike.

Go figure! I even have the impression that my eye is hurting and half-closed.

* * *

End of part four.

TBC

**But sometimes Puck...**


	5. Chapter 5

**Puck, the conclusion part one.**

**By Asso**

ₒₒₒₒₒₒₒₒₒₒ

Author's Notes.

_

* * *

_

Once more, please, my friends, remember that this one is not an AU. Eh Eh Eh...

_And obviously and once more... Thank you, __**Dinah**__, for your kindness, your agreeableness and your cleverness._

ₒₒₒₒₒₒₒₒₒₒ

_**Yes, Puck likes to disorient the wayfarers, but sometimes…**_

ₒₒₒₒₒₒₒₒₒₒ

_

* * *

_

La

_wks! But guess what. She's here. We met each other, just… well, just as I wished._

* * *

_My intuition... __Ahem, no. My reasoning was right. He is here. We met each other... casually._

_

* * *

_

Damn!

_She's beautiful! Honestly… my dream didn't do justice to her._

_

* * *

_

How

_…how he smells! How he smells... attractively._

_

* * *

_

Gosh! Surely the other Trip, the Trip of my dream, wasn't a foo

_l._

* * *

_The… the T'Pol of my dre__am hadn't… hadn't wrong reasons._

_

* * *

_

There...

_ I don't know… there is something different in her this morning. She seems... she seems softer... sweeter. Ah man. You are still dreaming. Come on, wake up._

* * *

_His scent... his scent s__mells even more bewitching this morning. It is... intoxicating! It is… T'Pol! Remember! You are not the T'Pol of your dream._

_

* * *

_

Sure, wake up, man.

_ And stop with these stupid thoughts. Didn't you wish to meet her? Okay, now here we are. Now you have to... you have to invite her to share her breakfast with you to see… that she can feel less alone. Don't you remember your intention? Remember... a matter of Human courtesy._

* * *

_Just so,__ T'Pol. Enough now. Remember who you are and stop behaving like a Human lass; remember why you are here. Didn't you wish to meet the commander… by accident? And that happened maybe a little… forced by you, but that is a… a matter of logical strategy. Now it is necessary to talk with him and to bring him, still casually, to what you want from him. That means that now you should...viz... it would be necessary... you have to..._

_

* * *

_

And then, go ahead, man. After all, you

_ already shared your meal with her. You did it._

* * *

_You… have to strike up a conversation with him. Ca... casually. It's not difficult. Humans do it al__l the time. A greeting, polite, then... then some words. Doesn't matter about what. The.. the weather, for example? Humans talk often of that. Oh sure! On a spaceship!_

_

* * *

_

Oh sure, I did it. But never we

_re we alone. I never did cheekily call her to a breakfast which could seem a... tête-à-tête._

* * *

_But T'Pol! Are you becom__ing like that illogical T'Pol you dreamed? Come on, for the katra of your mother! You have a running brain, after all, haven't you? _

_

* * *

_

A little bit of brass, for Pete

_'s sake! You are the brazenness champion, after all, aren't you?_

* * *

_A little bit of inventiveness, my dear clever Vu__lcan! Or do you want him to be right when he says that your Vulcan logic doesn't allow you to have any imaginativeness?_

_

* * *

_

Did her beauty reduce your brain to some sort of jellied mush, by chance? After... after that dream?

* * *

_Is__ his scent capable of nicking your self-possession, by chance? After... after that dream?_

_

* * *

_

Come on!

* * *

_Come on!_

ₒₒₒₒₒₒₒₒₒₒ

"Good morning, Sub-Com…"

"Good morning, Com…"

"Oh, sorry, T'Pol. Mh… Oh… Ah…T'Pol…"

"Excuse me, Commander. Ahem... Have you slept well?"

"Eh? Well…"

"No? Bad dreams?"

"W…what? Nnnno! No."

"I am glad. The Chief Engineer has to have a good sleep, so as to be good."

"Oh… oh… Thanks for your concern. You are… talkative, this morning, Sub-Commander. Maybe it was also a good night for you."

"Oh… ehm… yes."

"Good. T'Pol…"

"Good dreams?"

"Eh?"

"I said…"

"I understood what you said. But…"

"I am aware that Humans need dreams in order to sleep well."

"Yeah. Sure. T'Pol…"

"So, if you had good dreams, you had an even better night."

"Ah, of course. T'Pol…"

"Unlike Vulcans."

"Eh? Ah right. Vulcans don't dream. T'Pol…"

"They mustn't dream, if they want to have a good sleep."

"I see. T'Pol…"

"That's a matter of fact."

"T'Pol…"

"Yes. And actually I don't dream."

"O… obviously. T'Pol…"

"It could be very pernicious for me, Commander, and if I…"

"**T'Pol!**"

"Commander?"

"T'Pol, did you eat a recorder, by chance? Blocked on, switched-on?"

"Commander!"

"Sorry T'Pol, but If you go on interrupting me…"

"I think it was you who interrupted me, and not at all civilly."

"Sorry, but I wanted to…"

"To demonstrate to me one more time your well-known lack of self-control?"

"Darn, T'Pol. I wanted to…"

"To show to me that there is no sleep restful enough to make you kinder?"

"T'POL! I wanted to…"

"...to display to me since the early hours of the day that any attempt to have a polite conversation with you is useless?"

"T'Pol! Please. I wanted…"

"You wanted…"

"**T'POL! I wanted to invite you!**"

"… to be once again the same… _What?_"

"Sub-Commander, would you like… would you like to have your breakfast with me?"

"Oh."

"Would… would you like to do that, T'Pol?"

"You… are asking me… to eat together with you?"

"Y…yess…"

"At the same table?"

"Eh? Well! Naturally."

"Alone?"

"A… alone, yes."

"Oh."

"Do I have to take this second _Oh_ as a yes, or…"

"Why?"

"Why… what?"

"Why did you make this invitation to me?"

"Well, T'Pol, it's a… a matter of Human courtesy. I am not the boor you think."

"Oh."

"And this third _Oh_, what does it mean?"

"Doesn't it sound a little… personal, Commander? I... I know that, on Earth, a woman and a man, alone, at the same table, sharing their meal, might be... and as for Vulcans, this wouldn't be very... decorous."

"Eh? Oh… Oh… maybe… but… you know… two friends…"

"Are we… friends?"

"Are we not?"

"Oh… I… I think…"

"What, T'Pol? See, don't we work well together and isn't it logical, as you would say, that friendship can pop up between two colleagues who help each other in their work?"

"I… think so."

"And do you think, T'Pol, that I am simply an illogical, pestilential fat-head or that I am happy to argue right along with you because I feel that we are friends?

"I… I… I think so."

"What? That I am an illogical, pestilential fat-head or that we are friends?"

"No! I mean… your are not an illogical, pestilential fat-head."

"This means that we are friends?"

"I… I… I think…"

"Can't we be friends, T'Pol? Is that… illogical for a Vulcan? Does being professional rule out friendship?"

"I… don't think so."

"So, in conclusion, are we friends?

"I… think… so."

"In this case, T'Pol, you can understand why I made this invitation to you. I thought you would like to have a little… friendly talk with me, just like Humans do, while sharing their meal. It's a good way to demonstrate their friendship for each other. It is... not necessary that they have to be something more... than friends. Besides, that... Well… That could be very useful to mitigate your lonelin… I mean… your peculiar situation as the only Vulcan on the ship. Oh sure, I know that Vulcans aren't in the habit of being conversational, and that explains my surprise and my reaction to the fact that you were so unusually chatty…"

"I wasn't… chatty."

"…and for that I ask your forgiveness. I know also that Vulcans prefer not to talk when they eat, but you know… we are on a Human vessel… You… maybe… I mean… Oh damn! You are a scientist; you should like to experience what you don't know."

"That… that's correct."

"So, Sub-Commander? Do you accept my invitation?"

"It is… agreeable, Commander."

"Really? You and me? A…alone?"

"Of… of course, Commander. If you… find my company acceptable."

"Absolutely! Namely… I mean… I… Certainly, T'Pol. Your company is always… pleasurable."

"Pleasurable? My company… for you?"

"Don't you think so?"

"I..."

"And… mine for you, T'Pol… is it acceptable?"

"Absolutely! Namely… I mean… I… Certainly, Commander. Your company is always… pleasant."

"Pleasant? My company… for you?"

"Don't you think so?"

"I..."

"Please… lead me, Commander. Isn't it a Human custom for the male to choose the table? I am a scientist; I… like to experience what I don't know."

_ₒₒₒₒₒₒₒₒₒₒ_

_Okay, now here we are. We… are sitting at the same table, and we are alone. T'Pol the Vulcan__ is sharing her breakfast with me. And we are alone. As… as two friends, yes. __**As… two… friends**__. And I am sure that, later, the whole ship will know the news._

_

* * *

_

Okay, now here we are. We… are sitting at the same table, and we are alone. I, T'Pol the Vulcan, am sharing my breakfast with.. with my friend. And we are alone. As… as two friends, yes.

_**As… two… friends.**__ What… what will they think of my behaviour, these gossipy Humans?_

* * *

_Well! Man, did you ever realize how mild the curve of her cheek__ is? Maybe her visage appears stern, but if you look at it closely, it is... is soft. Maybe... Damn! Is it possible that that T'Pol, the T'Pol of my dream, can exist, somehow? She… she is strange this morning, seems… sweeter. Or is it me who sees her like this? Or simply… simply have I never noticed this side of her?_

_

* * *

_

You are a foolish woman, T'Pol. You knew the strength of his scent, even if you

_always tried to ignore it. Now... now this scent is surrounding all things. You are alone, immersed in it. And it is... it seems... it appears... different... It is warmer, yes warmer, today. Like... like blandishing._

* * *

_Like the blandishing scent of the Trip of my dream._

_

* * *

_

Is it p

_ossible... possible that I never noticed the warm sweetness of his scent? That it... isn't a dream? Like the warm mildness of his voice. And the warmth which shines through his usual teasing mood._

* * *

_Trip! Do you want to wake up, or don't__ you? You're not in your dream; you're in the reality of your life. MERELY - you have managed to have her with you, at your table, to... to show her how Humans can be friendly with her, so as to make her less lonely, if what you think is true. Now, man, you must proceed. Talk with her, damn it! Say something... neighbourly to her!_

_

* * *

_

T'Pol! Do you want to wake up, or don't

_you? You are in the Mess Hall, at this moment, in the REAL mess Hall. You are not in that… impossible dream. And a series of unexpected and favourable circumstances put you in the condition to talk with the commander about that strange thing you detected near the planet. That is the reason why you are sitting here, at this table, a... alone with him._

_NOTHING MORE THAN THAT._

_Now the problem is how to get to the issue's core... casually._

_My attempt, before, perhaps was dangerous. Dreams... better not to talk about this matter._

_The commander was talking about our ability to work well together. Maybe this could be the right approach._

_

* * *

_

So, what could you say? Well, you said to her that you and she work well together because you

_could be… you __**are**__ friends, which she - evidently – hasn't been insensitive to. Actually these last days were very fruitful in regard to this matter. Your concerted work with her was indeed profitable to push the captain to act more wisely. This could be the right point of departure. And… Trip. You have to make her feel... at home. You… must show her that you are considerate. Remember? Human courtesy… blab, blab, blab._

_NOTHING MORE THAN THAT._

_ₒₒₒₒₒₒₒₒₒₒ_

"Okay, T'Pol. This is your tea and this is my coffee, and these are your and my biscuits. Rigorously vegetable. Not exactly a pecan pie, but surely lighter, more fit to this hour."

"Biscuits?

"Yeah. Don't you like to experience what you don't know? Scientist… Remember?"

"You seem to be particularly eager to make me taste new experiences this morning, Commander."

"Yup. You're right, please forgive me. What do I have to say? The matter... the fact is that I am very glad to be sitting here with you. That's really true, T'Pol. After these days... difficult... I must say, just when I finally can savour my breakfast without thinking about how I have to act and about how it's possible to solve problems which seem unsolvable, it's nice to be able to savour a bit of stillness, sharing the breakfast and a little talk with someone who is a friend. And, do not take this wrong, T'Pol, but I am twice as glad at the thought that this someone is you."

"What do you mean, Commander?"

"Oh come on, T'Pol. It is not a secret that you and I produce fireworks together. A lot of times I thought seriously about pitching you through an airlock, and I am persuaded that only your Vulcaness prevented you from thinking the same in regard to me."

"Actually, Commander, you are capable of sorely trying everyone, even… a Vulcan."

"Eh eh... I'm really on the ball, aren't I?"

"On the ball?"

"Smart, clever, able to make even angry a Vulcan."

"Do you find this amusing, Commander?"

"Yes... hum... no. No. In reality, the thought that we learned to work well together is much more satisfying. Here we are, chatting with each other... amicably. And without any need to solve any problem, only for the sake of doing it. Isn't this true, T'Pol?"

"Actually, I must admit."

"Yes, T'Pol. It is fulfilling that the outcome of our tiffs is a budding friendship. It makes people feel less... lonely, doesn't it?"

"Actually, I... must admit."

"Ha ha! And then you wonder why I am eager to push you to taste new experiences. I have learned that you… well, yes… that you have an open mind, and I am very… very content that you and I are capable of being a good team. A team... a team..."

"A very close-knit team."

_

* * *

_

What?

* * *

_Oh! Oh… but… but what did I say? How… how did I let these words get out __of my mouth? I spoke with the voice... with the voice of that other T'Pol!_

_

* * *

_

These words! They are… they are those… those…

* * *

_Stop it, stupid woman! __Talk with YOUR own voice!_

_

* * *

_

Okay. And that… what

_ does it mean? T'Pol… isn't T'Pol able to utter these words? Can't she do it also… also in reality? What's strange about that?_

* * *

"Oh… Oh sure! Well, T'Pol…. I must say that you know the English language… very well."

"Oh… Ahem… Commander, you know that Vulcans are… you would say… fussy."

"Indeed. Anyway, your definition fits perfectly. I think we are really a close-knit team. To tell the truth, we have been capable of being a close-knit team in lots of different circumstances."

_**

* * *

**_

In… lots… of different… circumstances?

* * *

_And now? What am I doing? Do I repeat what my dream's T'Pol said?_

_

* * *

_

This… this

_is a mere coincidence. A... a coincidence. Sure, a coincidence. _

I lean forward, looking straight at the commander. "That's true, Commander. And not rarely in... a combination of unlucky circumstances."

* * *

_**These were MY words!**__ The words I replied to her. IN MY DREAM!_

I slant toward her. She is staring fixedly at me. I return her gaze. "Maybe - how low my voice is! - there could also be… _pleasant_ circumstances."

There is a quick beat of her eyelids, and, I can't be sure, but it seems to me that there is a slight trembling in her voice when she replies to me.

* * *

"Commander – is there an airy quake, in my voice, by chance? – are you… _**persuaded**_… of that?"

* * *

I can't help, but let my hand dart forth to grasp hers. Why… why doesn't she withdraw? And why is my voice even lower, if that's possible, in my answer to her? "Yes, T'Pol. I am…_**persuaded**_. There will be… many… _pleasant_ circumstances."

Then my thoughts' absurdity affects me. But what the hell am I thinking? My dreams are MY dreams, for Pete's sake! Not surely those of another person, and even less of T'Pol! And besides… Vulcans… don't dream, do they?

Suddenly I realize that I am holding her hand. Damn! That's not good. Vulcans hate to be touched. Too intimate. Just as things seem to have begun to work, I am running the risk of mucking everything up.

And... and I have only to thank her... her kindness, that she wanted to not retract her hand from my grip. Evidently these months with us Humans made her more indulgent about our behaviour. Or... or maybe she wanted to demonstrate to me that she, too, is glad of this little shared breakfast, and, because of this, she is willing to make an exception to the etiquette.

Just so. And what else, if not this? Could you really believe that her conduct, her look... her words... can mean...?

What? But what, Trip? This is… this is the normal conduct even a Vulcan woman would use if she was willing to consolidate her relationships. Obviously she is trying to comply with the context, my context, exactly like I am trying to do with her own context.

And stop thinking those words meant anything else beyond their face value. They were the normal words of a normal woman who talks normally.

I withdraw swiftly my hand and lean against my chair's backrest. "Sorry, T'Pol. Forgive me if I made you feel ill at ease."

* * *

I look down at my hand, still lying on the table. I feel … cold. It… it wasn't unpleasant with the commander's grasp around it.

What? But... but T'Pol! What's up with you? That dream did indeed muddle you up - and to such an extent that you are finding things which don't exist, which CANNOT exist.

My words... the commander's words... They were simple words, of a simple conversation. There's no need to believe... to believe...

To believe what? That we were repeating, meaningfully and purposely, the words of my dream? And... and of HIS own dream? A... a common dream?

T'Pol! Did you become mad, by chance?

If Humans were telepaths, this might make sense, but they are not. Not even Vulcans are, at least in this way, as far as I know.

That anomaly. That anomaly. It has to be that! It's absolutely necessary that I investigate it thoroughly, and, equally, now that the commander's implication for help has absolute priority. I must involve him. Casually or not casually.

I realize that he has spoken to me. He apologized because he held my hand with his. "Commander..." It is … it is as if like my mouth opens by own free will. "...it wasn't unpleasant."

The words came from my lips by their own volition.

I try to not betray my disconcertment.

Yes. It's absolutely necessary that I proceed.

* * *

I hardly manage to hide my astonishment.

But what the hell is happening? I can't say that her reply was unwelcome; it was surely not at all ugly to me, but... but what is happening to T'Pol? What does this... this softness of hers mean? This decidedly unusual sweetness? This speaking... heart-to-heart? This speaking heart-to-heart, and _**affectionately**_… TO ME?

What the hell is happening to her?

And to me, on the other hand.

Not to mention the captain. And the doctor.

And that dream. That dream was so lifelike that it seems… it seems to want to go on, even now, in a sort of elusive way.

WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING, FOR MEPHISTOPHELES'S GOATEE?

I take my cup of coffee, almost with rage, and take some sips of the dark and strong liquid, searching for normality in the drink which accompanies me every morning.

I look at my Vulcan companion from above the edge of my cup, and I see her do the same, watching me askance, while drinking her tea. And her eyes have a puzzled expression, the same, I'm sure, that there is in mine.

God. Would it be possible that there really was on the planet … or something undetected operating near it … that was capable of causing all that?

I wonder… And if I were asking T'Pol if what I suspect could have a nuance of truth? After all, it is true that the captain's behaviour was strange and unexpected. There's no need to talk of the equally strange conduct of the doctor that the captain revealed to me, and surely not even to talk of my dream. No need to make her - and me - embarrassed. And absolutely even less of the crazy suspicion I had that she could have dreamed and… and dreamed my own dream.

But why not speak to her of my impression? After all... after all, friends ought to support you, when you need support. And she is damnedly smart. And logical, yes, logical. Maybe she can be slightly lacking in imaginativeness – after all she is a Vulcan – but in this case that would really be of great help, because her well settled mind would be capable of making me down-to-earth and of bridling my too free fantasy, if needed.

I lay my cup on the table. "T'Pol."

She does the same, without watching me directly, and remains silent, as in expectancy.

Okay. Go, man. "T'Pol, the way we have worked together in these last days is clear proof that we can really be a... very close-knit team, as you said. But... well... don't you find it strange that we had to do this to contrast the captain's behaviour? I mean... I've known him a long time and he can be stubborn and proud, but he never acted so. I wonder... I wonder... could there be something external, unknown, able to explain his weird conduct?

_And a lot of other things_.

* * *

Grand! No need for me to attempt to go casually in the matter! And no fear that I have to explain why I did my researches. And... and to reveal that I dreamed and even less WHAT I dreamed. And no need for thinking about the mad possibility, the illogical idea that I dreamed what the commander did. This... this is… this is simply, like my present and NONSENSICAL behaviour, the weird and still operating reflex of my dream, the living demonstration that probably I am not mistaken about the not unreal hypothesis that we - all of us - were sucked into some sort of unknown and illusory anomaly.

And if the commander had the same suspicion, most likely I am right because rarely is his intuition mistaken. In... in reality, it's rare that he makes any mistake, and...

**A****nd I don't understand why I feel proud of that!**

Enough. I must regain my real being; this persistent concern about the atmosphere of my dream has to end. I must face the situation together... with my friend.

I level my look at him and watch him directly. I find myself fluctuating in… in the deep blue of his eyes.

T'POL! S-T-O-P IT! You are awake. **A-W-A-K-E! Did you understand? **_**AWAKE!**_ It doesn't exist. Neither that Trip… **Oh DAMN!** **THE… THE COMMANDER!**.. THE _**C-O-M-M-A-N-D-E-R**_ of your dream nor that T'Pol! That _**UNREAL**_ T'Pol!

Mentally thanking my Vulcan training in self-control, I manage to speak normally, with my usual calm tone.

"Commander, actually I had your same suspicion. Definitely the Kreetassans' behaviour seemed to be a little strange: quite self-centred, one could say; unwilling to compromise; and substantially not too far from the captain's conduct. As far as I can't say that the Captain is always capable of behaving maturely, and as far as I'm aware that Humans are not prone to act in this way…"

I ignore the little snort of impatience from the commander, even though I feel an illogical satisfaction for having provoked this reaction from him. This is something in our mutual interaction that I am always searching for, and that I am not able to explain. It's as if a bit of his... of his own mood has stuck to me. Why? For... for the same reasons... of my dream?

_**T'Poool! Do you want to cut it out? **_

I go on, quietly.

"…I wondered if there could be something in the Kreetassans' space which is capable of pushing people to act in a weird manner and to have weird thoughts. Maybe…there could have been other persons affected by this sort of behavioural deviation; maybe there could be persons still affected even now, without being aware of that."

I raise my eyebrow innocently. And with keen attention.

"Did… you have any clue in this sense, Commander?"

* * *

Damn woman! Too smart, damn it! And suspicious. I hate when she seems to know that you know something that you don't want her to know.

I reply precipitously. "Absolutely not, Sub-Commander. No clue, not at all."

Then, the bitchy imp of my mistrustful mind makes me aware of the tense and not exactly Vulcan-like attention in her visage, when she asked her question. Might it be that, dreams or no dreams, it couldn't be that I'm the one who wants to hide something?

I raise my eyebrow in turn. "And you, Sub-Commander? Did you have any clue?"

Her reply is perfectly collected, very Vulcan in the tone and just as deadpan as her words should be. And nevertheless, for the second time during our breakfast, it seems to me that I can perceive a slight turmoil in her voice.

Or perhaps, is it only my imagination?

* * *

This man! He is a… a damn... Viz… He is too smart, and too perceptive. And suspicious. If I were Human I… I would hate it when he seems to know that you know something that you don't want him to know.

And I would hate to not be capable of controlling the slight staggering of my voice, even in all my collectedness. I speak as impassively as I can. "Not at all, Commander." Then I can't restrain myself. "At least, none that I am aware of."

He clenches his eyes at my words, and I can't help but quickly avert mine from his.

Better... better I go toward to quieter waters, to use the idiom I heard from him once. It would be best to get to the core of the reason I wanted to meet with him. Now that the commander has given me the opportunity to speak with him of my discovery and of my suspicions, I mustn't waste time in illogical and irrational verbal skirmishes. And for what, then? For a handful of foolish thoughts based on nil?

I go hurriedly in the issue. "I made a quick search, Commander, and I found something."

I feel his immediate interest. It's... cheering the way he is always capable of seizing something important and paying forthwith attention to it.

I look straight in his eyes. "It is a strange thing, definitely an anomaly, but I have never seen anything like it, and, as far as I know, there is no mention of anything similar in the Vulcan database."

The commander doesn't talk. His expression makes it clear that I have managed to gain his full and deep absorption. Very well. He won't deny his help. Rather, if I act shrewdly, he will probably offer his observations spontaneously, without me having to go deeply into... many details.

I go on, trying to describe what I observed. "It was like a kind of cavorting pulsation, full of energy, which darted here and there without any apparent rule, almost as if it was a living thing. Puissant and still difficult to detect. I don't know, it seemed a..."

"A puck."

I frown. "A... what, Commander?"

He chuckles, with that sound which warms... _T'Pol!_

"A puck. A goblin. A pixie. Elusive and still throbbing with pep."

My scowl deepens. "I don't understand".

* * *

I was unable to restrain myself. I must admit, the Sub-Commander is... delicious when she scowls. No, that other Trip wasn't a fool.

I laugh softly. "T'Pol, I am speaking of an illogical Human myth: pixies, elves, elfins, bogies, genies, leprechauns, goblins and lots of other names for the same magical creatures. They are hidden beings of rivers and lakes, of mountains and clouds, and of the forests, above all. They are elusive and spiteful, sometimes benevolent and sometimes malevolent, and their champion is Puck. Your thumbnail sketch of what you detected fits him like a glove. He is the most uncanny of these creatures; he belongs to dreamlands, actually he is the master of the dreams."

My hushed laugh dies on my mouth, the meaning of what I said whirling in my mind. _The… master… of… the dreams._ _**The master…**_ Oh man, that's... that's absurd. I look fixedly at the sub-commander's eyes. She is staring at me with a strange expression. I cough slightly. I begin to babble, unconvincingly. "W... well, Sub-Commander, you... you know. Humans... Humans are... fan... fanciful. And... and then..." I can't help but talk like this. "... why am I speaking of that to you? Vulcans don't dream."

This time I am sure. Her voice trembles, in her response.

* * *

This time I am sure. My voice can't repress its tremble in my response. "No, Commander, they don't."

And my eyes and his eyes look for each other.

* * *

I clear my throat. "Oh... hem... 'cough, cough'... T'Pol, do not mind me, I think you know how I am. Rather, speak to me of what you discovered. No. Better. T'Pol, listen to me. Would... would you like me to help you? I mean... Maybe I could help you examine that strange anomaly. After all we are... we are a close-knit team, and we are... friends, in addition."

* * *

I shake myself. Stop with all these absurdities. I nod deadpan at the Commander's request. Excellent. Things are going exactly like I wished. "That would be very useful, Commander."

His smile lights up his visage. I… I must admit, that other T'Pol REALLY had a lot of good ideas. And I can't help but add. "And… pleasant, Mister Tucker."

And my look and his look get lost in each other.

_

* * *

_

My God! A man could drown in the depth of those eyes!

* * *

_Surak! A woman could fly in the blue of those eyes!_

_

* * *

_

What... what might happen if now I call

_ed her... Hon? As I... as the Trip of my dream did?_

* * *

_What... what might happen if now he __called me... Hon? As the Trip of my dream did?_

_

* * *

_

Might she reply, calling me Trip? As the T'Pol of my dream did?

* * *

_Might I reply, calling him Trip? As I… as the T'Pol of my dream did?_

_

* * *

_

And so… could it happen that we… that we… as in my dream…?

* * *

_And so… could it happen that we… that we… as in my dream…?_

_

* * *

_

Trip! But… but

_are you crazy? But are you aware of what you are thinking?_

* * *

_T'Pol! But… but did you lose __all logic? But are you aware of the irrationality of your thoughts?_

_

* * *

_

That one was a dream, for Pete's sake! And the woman you are sitting in front of is NOT the T'Pol of your dream!

* * *

_That one was a dream, for Surak's sake! And the man you are sitting in front of is NOT the Tr… the man of your dream!_

_

* * *

_

She is a Vulcan female, damnit! And the most galling of Vulcan females, I am persuaded.

_ Regardless of how smart, regardless of how beautiful, and… and regardless of how strangely sweet she appears to be today._

* * *

_He is a Human man, for Surak's katra! And the most illogical of Human men, I am persuaded. __Regardless of how smart, regardless of his enthralling scent, regardless of how strangely understanding he appears to be today._

_

* * *

_

Trip, let alone the impossibility of such a thing,

_is it possible that you might really be turning your life into… into a NIGHTMARE?_

* * *

_T'Pol, let alone the impossibility of such a thing, is it possible that you might really be turning your life into… into what Humans call a NIGHTMARE?_

_

* * *

_

Regardless of how

_deep her eyes can be?_

_

* * *

__ blue his eyes can be?_

Regardless of how

_

* * *

__Regardless of how__ silky her hair can be?_

_

* * *

__Regardless of how __sunny his hair can be?_

_

* * *

__Regardless of how __enchanting her fragrance can be?_

_

* * *

__Regardless of how __ravishing his smell can be?_

_

* * *

__Regardless__…_

_

* * *

__Regardless__…_

* * *

By the skin of my teeth, I don't jump. Stop it, man. All this has to end. This bated and abashed rolling between reality and dreams has to end. If what the sub-commander has detected has something to do with that, it's mandatory that this be clarified. And if I can be of some help, it's crucial that I offer it. Now it isn't a simple sign of friendship, or…or of whatever else. Oh but…TRIP!

I straighten and talk sternly. There mustn't be any doubt in regard to my intentions.

"Sub-Commander, if what you detected has something to do with the Captain's unusual and potentially dangerous behaviour, it's imperative that we assess it. We must prevent such unsafe things from occurring again, and I am not only speaking of the Captain. So, I am glad you accepted the offer of my help. I am sure that with your scientific knowledge and my engineering skills, we will be able to solve the problem."

But… but what the hell…? Since when do I talk like… like T'Pol?

* * *

The illogical thoughts of my mind halt abruptly. I can't believe my ears. The commander's words are perfect and…logical. It seems…. It seems that he speaks with my brain. That… that's absurd. ABSURD. But, after all, what isn't absurd in this story? Is it not absurd that the perfect logic of his words is…. is not pleasant for me? Why do I feel unsatisfied that he wanted to make clear the reasons why he offered his help to me? What… what other reasons could there be if not these? Friendship? Or… or…

Oh stop! Really it's mandatory that we clarify all this.

"You speak very logically, Commander. I am pleasantly surprised."

That's my logical reply. Logical, yes. Like his statement.

Why do I feel… disgruntled?

* * *

Pleasantly surprised? Damn woman! But what does she believe? That I am a bonehead unable to have any rational thoughts? Now I... I...

But... Wait... What is this slight note in her voice? I am not sure. Could it be... could it be that she feels letdown?

Oh well. Maybe I am a stupid, Human man, but, after all, it wasn't because I wanted to offer to her my ability to be logical that I invited her. I wanted to offer to her something else. Something more.

Friendship. Comprehension. In my Human way. And she accepted my offering. Even if all the rest is absurd, I can't let matters end in this way. She… she is a woman, damnit! And I bet that she has her feelings, her Vulcan feelings; maybe… maybe her own emotions, who knows? And I can't give her an opening and, shortly afterwards, close it. That would be… illogical. And unfair.

And if… if I…?

I speak almost without thinking of what I am saying.

"T'Pol, listen to me. Duty calls both you and me now. We don't have time to examine what you detected. But it is important, isn't it?"

"I think..."

"Of course it is important. We must know if the Captain's conduct was due to it, so we can prevent other people from incurring such dangerous behaviour."

"I think..."

"But obviously we can't speak to him about what you found, because sure as hell he'll want to know the whys and wherefores, and this is not good, is it?"

"Oh… I think…"

"Damn. You are full of _Oh_ this morning, Sub-Commander."

"Oh…"

"Precisely. Because of the way things stand, you and I must work secretly, mustn't we?"

"Oh…"

"Oh? Again? Ah yes. _Oh_. That means _Oh yes_, doesn't it?"

"Oh…"

"Exactly. But, we haven't the time now. We need the right equipment, don't we?"

"Oh…"

"Oh what? Oh sure, you are right. The Mess Hall isn't suitable, is it?"

"Oh.."

"Sure, sure. I agree with you. The Mess Hall is not made for people who must work secretly, is it?"

"Oh…"

"Right, right. You are right again. We need a well-equipped place where we can work quietly without the world observing us, don't we?"

"Oh…"

"Right yet again, Sub-Commander. Where the hell can we find such a place, on Enterprise? That is what you are wondering, aren't you?"

"I…"

"I? That's new. Anyway I concur totally, but I can assure you that this place exists."

"Oh?"

"Damn it, T'Pol. You stun me this morning. Not only are you very talkative, but your vocabulary is incredibly vast."

"Oh… I…"

"See? An _Oh_ and an _I_ at the same time. Vast, very vast. Anyway, to answer to your question, I am talking of my den."

"Your den?"

"Den, yes. Haunt, lair, hideout, my quiet cubby, where I am in the habit of working until the small hours without being distracted by anyone. It is well-equipped and only for me. My office in Engineering."

"Oh… Oh…"

"Double _Oh_, this time. Yes, you are right again. My office can comfortably contain two persons."

"Two…"

"Two friends, T'Pol, while they work placidly together, away from prying eyes. Maybe… sharing a big slice of Pecan Pie."

"Two… friends."

"You and I, T'Pol. I thought we had already established this."

"Yes, but…"

"T'Pol, what would you think if we worked on your discovery this evening after dinner, in the tranquillity of my _den_?"

"Commander, could I say something, please?"

"Eh? Oh… oh sure, T'Pol, sure. Excuse me."

"Very well. Commander…"

"Yes, Sub-Commander?"

"That's another invitation, Commander, isn't it?"

"Oh…well…"

"Maybe, even a little more personal, almost intimate, isn't it?"

"Oh… well…"

"But given that we are friends, this invitation shouldn't be considered inadvisable by Human standard, should it?"

"Oh…well…"

"On the other hand, although it might be indecorous by Vulcan standards, it is true, though, that it could be very useful to mitigate my peculiar situation as the only Vulcan on the ship, couldn't it?"

"Oh… well…"

"I notice that you also are talkative this morning, Commander, aren't you?"

"Oh… well…"

"Even if your vocabulary doesn't appear as vast as mine, does it?"

"Oh… well…"

"Just so. But you are right. After all, we are on a Human vessel, aren't we?"

"Oh… well

"Right, Commander. That's why I am chatty, isn't it?"

"Oh… oh.. well.."

"Double _Oh_ this time, Commander, and you are doubly right. I am chatty and a little unusual in my tone, this morning, aren't I?"

"Oh… oh… oh… well…"

"Three _oh_, Commander? You are more and more talkative, aren't you? But, on the other hand, you are right again, three times. _One_, I am the only Vulcan on this Human vessel; _two_, I am a scientist, and _three_…"

"And three?"

"_Three_... I like to experience what I don't know."

"Oh… oh…oh…oh well!"

"Commander, please."

"Sub… Sub-Commander?"

"When you will finish with all those _oh_, could I ask you one thing?"

"Oh… Ahem, No! Namely…Of course, T'Pol."

"Very well. Commander…"

"Sub-Commander?"

"Who must bring the pecan pie?"

* * *

… _**sometimes Puck…**_

_**And now the final: the second and last part of the Conclusion. Is it possible that we can finally know who is... this damned Puck?**_


	6. Chapter 6

**Puck **

**By Asso**

**Rating: **PG**-**13

**Genres:** angst, challenge, drama, humour

**Keywords:** Puck, Puck, Puck…

* * *

**Author's Notes. **

_And now we are the end. _

_Now, finally, everything will be clear!_

_Oh... uh... well... or maybe... not?_

_**Dinah**__, my marvellous Beta, what do you think?_**Conclusion-Part Two**

* * *

_**Yes, sometimes Puck**__**…**_

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

They haven't even noticed me.

They entered the Mess Hall. Together. The one near to the other. Trip first, guiding her toward a table in a corner of the room - secluded.

They sat down, one in front of the other, and talked. As if uncaring that everyone's eyes were fixed on them.

Unaware of me.

They talked in a low voice.

And Trip took T'Pol's hand.

And T'Pol didn't withdraw it.

And they exchanged a look. Long, long, long.

That other look that they exchanged and that I noticed when I made my ceremonious excuses to the Kreetassans was nothing in comparison.

Their talk, quiet; the smiles on Trip's face; T'Pol's expression...

Their... intimacy.

I watch them while they head for the door of the Mess Hall, after they rose to their feet.

They walk, side by side, practically touching one another.

Without noticing me.

She is next to him like no Vulcan would do with anyone, with anyone who wasn't... who wasn't... Who wasn't who? Who, for Pete's sake? Who? W_hat_ is Trip to T'Pol? A comrade? Or a friend? Or...or...

They are at the door. Trip opens it. He turns to T'Pol and smiles at her, inviting her to exit before him.

What is that expression on T'Pol's face? And that... that softness in her movements? Is she really letting Trip guide her?

My eyes don't leave them. I see T'Pol go out, brushing closely by Trip. She nearly rubs herself against him.

I don't think I am deceiving myself. No, I don't think so.

I don't think there could be any other explanation for the stunned expression on Trip's visage, his large, almost dreamy smile, while he follows T'Pol out the room.

I keep watching the door after it closed behind Trip's shoulders, then I look around, searching for confirmation.

The crewmen in the Mess Hall are exchanging looks with each other, looking in their turn for the confirmation I am searching for. I see them cast furtive glances at me, at their Captain, spying on my expression.

I lower my eyes to my table and I stare at my breakfast without seeing it.

In conclusion, I have what I needed. Now I know what that look meant between Trip and T'Pol. I don't need to speak with Trip to get my explanation; it has been enough to observe him. And T'Pol. Both her and him. Together. Together like...

Like... like...

I level my eyes again at the door beyond which Trip and T'Pol disappeared. Together.

Together, TOGETHER.

I have to lower my head again. It's heavy. It's burdened with hefty and grievous thoughts.

What was I thinking? What did I do?

Yes, I accepted an invitation to breakfast, but what about the other invitation, the one to his... to his den...? I accepted an invitation that could be seen as an... an intimate invitation. What do Humans call it? A date. And I have been cheeky. I told the Commander in no uncertain terms and... and... and almost joking - Yes! Joking like HE does - that I would like to share the pecan pie with him. Alone with him. In his den. This evening. **Alone with him!** To... to work with him - _**alone with him! **_- until... until the small hours.

If I were a gullible and illogical Human, I could believe that the Puck the Commander spoke of could really exist and that it was him who pushed me to act like I did, and... and to walk with the Commander, side by side, close to him, to brush against him with my body, to **rub** myself against him, as if I were that other T'Pol, the T'Pol of my dream.

All this must absolutely end. Take things for what they are, T'Pol. Tonight you, my clever Vulcan, will work with the Commander, and - alone with him or not, pecan pie or not - you will solve this mystery... with his help...i n his den.

In his den. Permeated with his scent.

His den. His lair. The hideout which belongs to him; which is his, only his; which no one knows but him. And which I will know. Only the two of us.

I will find the most intimate traits of his personality there. I will have more knowledge of him than anyone else.

We will talk while working, as... as two friends are in the habit of doing.

We will know each other deeply.

It will be... lovely. Intimate.

We...

T'Pol! Oh, T'Pol! Okay, okay, I understand. Meditation - a big amount. This evening no dinner: meditation instead. And this time, it must work! Meditation is absolutely needed, if... if I want to fully savour the pecan pie. And considering that Tr... the Commander said that he would take care of the pecan pie, and knowing his big appetite, it wouldn't be a bad thing if I skip supper.

We will sit on his settee and eat our servings. His settee? Yes, it can't be missing in his den. Maybe tiny, but it must be there. I will have to pay attention; a tiny settee can be... dangerous. Too much closeness, too much... scent.

On that sofa, next to him, I will be able to closely observe his profile, like in my dream, without him noticing that I am peering at him. I will be able to sense the turgor and the fastness of his muscles: their hardness, their solidity. Like in my dream. I will be able to perceive... to taste... to enjoy... like in my dream...

It could be easy, on that sofa, that... I could give myself to him.

Like in my dream.

"T'Pol."

His voice awakens me from my daydream.

I turn my face toward him, my head full of the images of my dream, of the sensations of my dream. His body, nude and strong, inside mine. His... his grunts of effort, of potency. My moans. Of pleasure. And of love.

"T'Pol."

His voice again. Sweet, and... and caring.

I shake myself. I recognize where we are. We are in the corridor, just after we came out of the Mess Hall. I lock my eyes onto his. How blue they are.

There's something inside them. Something that reminds me of that other... Trip, yes, Trip. The Trip of my dream.

* * *

I... I never saw her like this. She seems to dream open-eyed. She is not her. It doesn't appear right.

I call her in a low voice.

"T'Pol."

She seems to awaken. She turns her face toward me. My God! How beautiful her face is! It seems lost in... in what?

Suddenly in my head the images of my dream begin to run, the sensations of my dream. My body inside hers. Her marvellous and smooth body, warm and soft. My... my grunts of effort. Her moans. Of pleasure. And of love.

And... and she accepted my invitation, my intimate invitation, my date. And tonight we will be alone in my den. We will able to savour the pecan pie, in my den. Sitting on my sofa. Together. Close to each other. And on that sofa I will be able to perceive... to taste... to enjoy... like in my dream...

It could be easy, on that sofa, that I could ask her to give herself to me.

And that she might do it.

Like in my dream.

I shake myself forcibly and with difficulty. I feel like I am tiddly.

I call her again. Worried. With care.

"T'Pol."

Her eyes, wide open, catch mine. It's like I'm plunging into the dark depth of an endless ocean.

There's something inside them. Something that reminds me of that other T'Pol. The T'Pol of my dream.

* * *

I try to reply in a normal voice. "Commander?"

* * *

The moment has gone. Fortunately has gone. For... fortunately, yes.

Oh come on, Trip. Tonight we must simply work. Together, yes. And even if that happens in my den, it doesn't mean anything. Certainly, I will share my den with her, my lair, the hideout which belongs only to me. I must admit, it will be nice that she will be able to know it. Only she besides me.

We will know each other, deeply.

It will be... lovely. Intimate.

We...

TRIP! Stupid man!

I talk in my turn. Is my voice a little too high, by chance?

"Oh... Ahem. Nothing, T'Pol, nothing. Oh well, I think we better get on with our duties. My day is busy. I don't think I will able to see you until this evening. Remember, after dinner. But do not eat too much." I chuckle. "You know, the pecan pie..."

* * *

What's wrong with me today? I can't help but reply, "Commander, I am persuaded that it's you who must pay attention. You are a glutton, to use own your words. Try not to have to ask for the Doctor before this evening. It would be unpleasant if we had to give up our co-operation this night because you had indigestion. And please, try also not to hurt yourself, like you are in the habit of doing. I think you are the most regular customer for Doctor Phlox in this respect."

Is it me who is speaking or is it the T'Pol of my dream? The one who thought to be... to be bonded with the Commander?

* * *

I almost choke. But what the hell is it happening today? Really is T'Pol the one who is speaking? Is really T'Pol speaking like this?

Then...

_**Who**_ pushes me to speak like this? "Oh well, Sub-Commander, I will take care of myself because I think Doctor Phlox might have no time for me. He may be too engrossed in curing his black eye."

I remain, mouth agape.

_**Puck. Does he exist, by chance?**_

* * *

I listen to the Commander's words. I adsorb their meaning.

Then...

It's like someone was pushing the words from my mouth. "Commander, I think Doctor Phlox should learn to behave a little more wisely. Maybe in this way, he might have avoided such an unpleasant accident."

I hardly manage to shut my mouth.

_**Puck. Does he exist, by chance?**_

* * *

_That's impossible. Illogical._

* * *

_That's illogical. Impossible._

* * *

_There's indeed something out there..._

* * *

_...which is making fun of us._

* * *

_Tonight..._

* * *

_...we will find..._

* * *

_... the explanation._

* * *

_Together._

* * *

_Together._

* * *

_He and I._

* * *

_She and I._

* * *

_Now... _

* * *

_... let's go._

* * *

_Don't ask..._

* * *

_Don't tell..._

* * *

_... don't tell._

* * *

_... don't ask._

* * *

_Let's..._

* * *

_... go._

* * *

_Don't..._

* * *

_... think._

* * *

_Let's go.__Let's go._

* * *

I try to breath. "T'...T'Pol... I... I think it would be better if we go."

* * *

I attempt to answer. "Y... yes, Commander. I... I think you are right."

* * *

I stare at her, trying to keep my thoughts inside my head. Her eyes are enlarged. Her eyebrows are raised, both them. Her gaze echoes my look. I speak with the steadiest voice I can. "See you this evening."

* * *

I gaze at him, trying to keep my dismay inside me. His eyes are narrow. His eyebrows are scowling. His stare echoes my look. I reply with the calmest voice I can. "Yes, Commander. I will see you tonight."

* * *

I wave my hand nonchalantly. "Thanks for the nice conversation at breakfast. Have a good day, Sub-Commander."

* * *

I nod politely and quietly. "Thank you for your invitation, Commander, both for breakfast and for this evening."

* * *

I nod silently. Better that I don't speak anymore. I pivot on my heel and walk away. I hear her steps behind me. I go ahead quickly, my nose full of her subtle fragrance.

My head is burdened with inexpressible thoughts.

* * *

I see him turn around and walk quickly away. I pivot on my heel, in turn, and head for the bridge. I hear his steps behind me. I go ahead swiftly, my nose full of his claiming scent.

My head is burdened with inexpressible thoughts.

What am I doing here?

Trip, foolish man, what are you looking for? There are no answers to your questions, and there are not even any questions. You are an idiot. It's your brain which is running amuck, don't you understand that? Too much pressure for you, poor little man.

Do not be ridiculous. Go back to engineering, to your reliable engines. They are really trusty, not your mind. Not reality or dreams or... Vulcan girls. Trip, listen to what remains of your melted brain. Go back to... Oh look. Apropos of Vulcan girls.

Mh, nothing to do. Whatever the circumstance, I won't ever able to give up. If there's even the slightest possibility to take her by surprise... When will I be capable of growing? Oh well. The temptation is too alluring. She doesn't seem to have noticed my presence. I might be able to catch her off guard. It's... amusing... when I manage to do that.

I call her slightly loud. "Hey, T'Pol."

Oh holy mackerel! I am the worst ass that can there be! At the exact moment that I call her, I realize why she is here, just like me, in the corridor which leads to Sickbay. She simply preceded me. She was standing before the Sickbay door, firm, looking at it, as if unable to decide whether to come in, as I would have done, if I had been the one to arrive first.

She turns quickly and fixes me with those dark and large eyes of hers.

My God! If they have been dangerously appealing at breakfast, now they are terribly enchanting, now that surprise is opening them wide - surprise and something else... a nuance of... of embarrassment. Yes. It shines through them and makes them even more entrancing.

A Vulcan who displays embarrassment and even a tiny bit of shame. Incredible. But I have become aware today that T'Pol is a very special Vulcan, no doubt about that. I am sure I'm not deceiving myself because I know why she is here. And I know that she knows that I know.

She is here for the same reason as me.

And, sure as hell, her Vulcan mind is waging a big war against the illogic of her behaviour.

I approach and halt in front of her. She raises her face to watch mine and her eyes don't leave mine, as if she wanted to sustain my look while vainly trying to appear deadpan. And because of that, because of the fight I am able to see in them, they sparkle even more enchantingly, damnit!

Oh come on, man! Don't you think you should try to get her to relax? After all, we are friends, aren't we?

I speak softly, being careful not to invade her space, even if we are very close and...well... even if she doesn't withdraw.

"Excuse me, T'Pol. I didn't want to frighten you."

"Vulcans don't..."

I chuckle, interrupting her well-known refrain. "Sure, sure, I know. Well, in this case, excuse me twice."

Then, I become serious. "Are you well, Sub-Commander?"

That hint of shame and of embarrassment in her eyes seems to grow, as if she was aware of her insecure appearance, and as if my question had revealed to her that I recognized her incertitude.

But, hey! Damn! Since when am I so able to decrypt T'Pol's feelings? Once I thought that she hadn't any feelings, the imbecile that I was. And now... Oh bah, never mind. A true gentleman mustn't let a woman be embarrassed, and even more if this woman is T'Pol and if this gentleman is me, because... because... Oh, for Pete's sake! After all we have a date!

I try to settle the situation. "T'Pol, I meant you are here before the door of Sickbay. So maybe you have something, who knows."

I don't know if I am a good liar, but surely she is not.

Her voice appears quiet, but I am sure she is not feeling quiet. "Commander, I have a headache."

Oh well, she is not a good liar, that's for certain, but to make up for it, I am an idiot. "T'Pol, I didn't know that Vulcans suffered from headaches." The worse of the idiots! What a really good way to soothe her discomfort.

I open my mouth to say something intelligent and she decides to show me my idiocy, in all its extent.

I think nobody can combat against a Vulcan female who is learning, with all the Vulcan cleverness of her, to return like for like.

Her eyes shine almost cheerfully as she speaks. "Commander, and you? Are you here because you have indigestion? No, too early I think. So. You have injured yourself, haven't you, in the end?"

Bravo, my dear Chief Engineer, bravo. Did you want to smooth her supposed solitude? So, now pick up the outcome of your sowing.

* * *

The best defence is attack. I am finally able to understand the meaning of this Human saying. Do you want to catch me in the act, as you are in the habit of saying, my dear Commander? Okay, and I return to you tit for tat.

_Tit for tat?_

Suddenly I become aware of my thoughts. Of my words.

Of my acts.

There's something else beyond my increasing acquaintance with humans, with... with the Commander. There's the reason, the illogical and still pressing reason which compelled me to come here to the Sickbay.

The same reason which pushed him.

I lower my eyes for a brief instant, then I lift them to his. I don't want to hide my concern. And my disquiet. I want to be honest with the Commander. With... with Trip. He... yes... he deserves that.

I think... I think that the other T'Pol, the T'Pol of my dream, was wiser than me, in some respects.

* * *

But if the outcome of my sowing is this look from her... well, Trip... you should practise farming.

Suddenly I become aware - really aware - of my thoughts. Of my words. Of my acts.

And of hers.

I stop behaving like the eternal child I want to appear. She is clearly indicating that she is relying on me, that she has lowered her barriers. And I must be honest with the Sub-Commander. With... my T'Pol, the T'Pol who I am beginning to know. She... yes... she deserves that.

I think... I think that the other Trip, the Trip of my dream, was wiser than me, in some respects.

"T'Pol, don't you think we should stop delaying?" I know perfectly well that she knows perfectly well what I mean.

* * *

I nod. Be that as it may, we must know.

* * *

I nod at her nod, while I keep on smiling. Then I become serious and I look at the button which activates the door to the Sickbay. I push it and the door opens silently. I turn toward T'Pol, waiting for her. She nods again and moves in unison with me.

We enter the Sickbay together, side by side.

The lights are low inside and all is quiet, except that the sound of a voice. Our attention is drawn by it. It comes from Phlox's usual workspace and the doctor is sitting there with his back toward us. He looks... tousled and is still wearing his nightclothes. Strangely, he doesn't seem to have noticed our entrance. He appears to be totally absorbed in listening to that voice.

It is his own voice. It's a recording.

We halt and listen to the words coming from the computer system. We can only hear the last phrases.

_"... because you need to be aware of its real value and of its possible limits, considering that many other doctors might use it in circumstances perhaps similar to those I've had to face._

_Extremely Distinguished Professor, it's my unquestionable and irrefutable opinion that, if your treatise was printed on paper like it was in the past, and if the paper was sufficiently fine, and if better and more sophisticated devices weren't already in use in the lavatories, the most proper use for your work wouldn't have been the reading._

_Please, may you receive my most dutiful greetings._

_Your devoted admirer, Doctor Phlox."_

I am unable to understand, and neither does T'Pol. The look she shoots to me, as I threw a quick glance at her, clearly shows the confusion she feels.

We again direct our attention to the doctor.

He is still engrossed.

For some moments everything is silent, and the doctor seems as immovable as a statue.

Then he moves slowly and, without getting up, turns his face towards us.

I feel a hand grasping mine. It's T'Pol's hand.

I don't feel any amazement at her gesture.

No.

I return her grip, staring intensely at the doctor's visage.

A thunderstruck expression is painted on it. He gazes at us, mouth closed, without saying a word.

He looks at us with his stunned and wide open eye.

The only eye able to watch us.

The other cannot.

It's black and half-shut.

_**... but sometimes Puck can help to find the right road, if you are capable of listening to him.**_

_**The End (or not?)**_

**::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::**

For Humans I am the woods' shadow.

For Andorians I am the ice's frost.

For Ferengi I am the coins' clink.

For Denobulans I am the touch

Which heals or makes sick.

All people have of me their own image,

Or maybe try not to have it,

To not think of me.

So, for Vulcans and their Logic,

I am the dark shade of the past.

For them I don't exist.

But I there be.

You can ignore me, but I there be.

You can't know what I am, but I there be.

You can't seize me, but I there be.

Whichever way you want to call me,

Either you believe I exist or you don't,

I there be.

A breath, a joke, a flame, a ghost.

Perhaps, an unaccountable space freak,

Which skips and which turns,

Which mocks logic and minds.

Which bilks the wayfarers

But can show the right road,

If you are able to listen to it.

I am the unknown nonexistent which exists.

Do you want to understand who I am?

Listen to the words of a man

Who was able to capture my essence.

_Either I mistake your shape and making quite, _

_Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite_

_Call'd Robin Goodfellow: are not you he_

_That frights the maidens of the villagery;_

_Skim milk, and sometimes labour in the quern_

_And bootless make the breathless housewife churn;_

_And sometime make the drink to bear no barm;_

_Mislead night-wanderers, laughing at their harm?_

_Those that Hobgoblin call you and sweet Puck,_

_You do their work, and they shall have good luck:_

_Are not you he?_

_Thou speak'st aright;_

_I am that merry wanderer of the night._

_..._

_I'll follow you; I'll lead you about a round,_

_Through bog, through bush, through brake, through brier;_

_Sometime a horse I'll be, sometime a hound,_

_A hog, a headless bear, sometime a fire;_

_And neigh and bark and grunt and roar and burn,_

_Like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn._

That's what I am.

And if your science

Thinks it has been able to erase me,

Look at all things

That you don't know,

That you will forever find along your path,

And at the bottom

You will find me.

A dark lump of inexplicable mystery,

A clot made with the dreams' substance.

That's what I am.

The master of dreams.

So, in the end of all that,

If you think that this little tale,

That you just finished reading,

Can have a slight hint of worth,

But you are unable to comprehend

If it speaks of reality or of dreams,

Allow me to end it in the way

I did in one of the tales of that man,

That writer, that Shakespeare.

I don't know if you know him.

It was infinitely nicer than this one,

It was a one-shot and unrepeatable

Masterpiece of immense greatness,

But I think that what I have said in it

Can perfectly fit for this little tale too,

For this very tiny "divertissement."

Take Puck's word for it.

_If we shadows have offended,_

_Think but this-and all is mended-_

_That you have but slumber'd here_

_While these visions did appear._

_And this weak and idle theme,_

_No more yielding but a dream,_

_Gentles, do not reprehend;_

_If you pardon, we will mend._

_And, as I am an honest Puck,_

_If we have unearned luck_

_Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,_

_We will make amends ere long;_

_Else the Puck a liar call:_

_So, good night unto you all._

_Give me your hands, if we be friends,_

_And Robin shall restore amends._

_**That's the real end. Take Puck's word for it.**_

**::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::**

_Mh... I think it's better being clear. Those rhymes, those rhymes in Italics, well, they are just quotes from that not well-known piece, that "A Midsummer Night's Dream", that comedy, I don't know if you know it. Oh come on, that comedy, you know, that one written by that obscure writer, that Shakespeare._

_I don't know if you know him. _

_Oh, I know, it's difficult to distinguish between the stanzas in Italics and the stanzas written normally. But I swear, as far as they can be nice, the rhymes normally written are mine, they are not of Shakespeare._

_Take Asso's word for it_.


End file.
